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Chapter Text

Jiang Cheng was rereading the manual in his hands for one last time. His hands trembled ever so slightly when his eyes skimmed over the half faded inken words inside the ancient scroll, his mind busy storing every detail of the forbidden technique. He didn’t miss how some parts seemed rushed like the writer was afraid of being caught, abandoning the elegance for speed. It did not surprise him. It was a scroll on shifting . 

He touched the last word with his fingertips, his memory tracing the pale marks. Tears. The author had probably used the technique himself. None of the words appeared to be sloppy, only hurried as if he couldn’t wait to experience the beautiful, peaceful end he had designed.

Jiang Cheng let the scroll drop on his lap, creating a stark contrast against his dark purple robes. It pooled from his pale belt to the ground, covering his silver bell. The bell stayed silent as Jiang Cheng’s mind was clearer than ever. He lifted his head, shadows dancing across his sharp cheekbones as he faced the flames in the fireplace. His attendants looked at him like he was crazy when he had ordered the fire to be started in his study after the sky went dark. It was summer and the air in Yunmeng was boiling hot and humid. It felt like a hot embrace, like a pile of blankets refusing to go away, and only a cold breeze over the lakes in the evening could freshen the suffering cultivators. They lit the fire anyway. Better to question sect leader Jiang’s motives in silence than to suffer his temper.

He slowly got up, making sure every letter he had to answer had an answer lying next to it. He had finished all of his work so that his successor would have an easier job, but he didn’t dare write anything that could give away his plans. He had a long history of failures under his belt and he was not going to let anyone learn about another one should he fail this time. He shook his head. If he even failed to shift, then he truly had no value as a cultivator. It was the simplest act they could perform, the final cry of despair. It was forbidden, rightfully so, but now he knew how and nothing could stop him from trying.

The manual slid in front of his feet and when he bent to pick it up, his gaze lingered on the empty space between the piles of correspondence between him and other sect leaders. A letter used to be there. His apology to sect leader Lan after he had offended him last time. He could only wish for no hard feelings between the sects because he was desperately aware it was too late for him. 

“I never want to see you again.”

He could do that. He could finally fulfill someone’s wish and it was terribly simple at that. He just had to disappear.

A log made a crackling sound when the flames broke it in half and it woke Jiang Cheng from his daze. The night wasn’t long and he was running out of time. His fingers tightened around the manual and he threw it into the fire without a moment’s hesitation. It was a horrible knowledge, how to shift. It promised peace to troubled minds. It promised rest to the tired ones.

Bright flames ate the ancient scroll in seconds and something in Jiang Cheng regretted it. That scroll had survived the destruction of Lotus Pier. It remained unopened when the Wens had raided the place, the knowledge too dangerous or maybe not interesting enough even for them. It was sealed and locked, all to protect the innocent minds from the alluring idea. But then Jiang Cheng was alone in the desolation of his home with a crying infant and fresh graves for his sister and brother - one full and one empty. Rest and peace had seemed so hard and so sweet at that time.

He left his rooms and took a long walk across the Lotus Pier, letting his memories overflow him, both bitter and sweet. He had a passing thought that his clothes might be too simple, but that was ridiculous. It didn’t matter in the end. He had his sword Sandu and his bell with him and his spiritual weapon Zidian safely on his finger. He refused to part with any of these. 

The lunar crescent was narrow, almost gone. It gave little to none light. That too suited Jiang Cheng’s plans. He could sneak out of the Pier and nobody would be the wiser, but he knew better than that. He walked past the guards, avoiding their questioning looks. They seemed borderline concerned. How unusual. He nodded in their direction to calm them down and they bowed in reply. Now when they search for him, the search won’t be long.

He walked along the lake and let the breeze play with his hair. He had taken his hairpiece down back in his study and left it there. He didn’t want to waste time with it later at the lake, but it had caused weird looks at his direction back at the Pier. That was fine. They would understand later.

Shifting was the most basic, most primal ability any cultivator had. It was so simple generation after generation had managed to rediscover it even though it has been forbidden for as long as anyone could remember. Jiang Cheng repeated the steps in his mind and wondered how it was possible that Wei Wuxian never wrote anything about it. He was the inventor, the genius. But amongst his many interests, complete and utter peace of mind probably never came up.

Stories talked about the ability to shift into an animal. But those were stories. Reality was different. In reality, cultivators shifted into a flower. And they stayed as that flower. Their golden core was used as a power source, crushing their bodies to fine dust and using their very soul to create a single bloom, all of their memories gone. What happened to their mind was unclear. But scrolls told tales about floating in a soft, warm place. About feeding on nothing but sunlight and existing simply for the sake of it. Jiang Cheng believed them. And deep down, he believed he’d still be around to watch over his beloved nephew and his sect even after his body and soul were gone.

He reached his destination. He stood at the end of the lake and observed how the dark patches, each a lotus flower, moved left and right along the tiny waves. It seemed like a place where Jiang Cheng could live for the rest of his pathetic life. He undressed, layer after layer, until he was completely bare. Plants had no use for clothes and the night was warm enough. He let the purple robes drop onto the water bank, seeing no purpose in folding them. They seemed much darker in the night, only his bell visible with its silver shell. It sang to him when he lifted it up, holding it firmly alongside Sandu. Flowers had no use for swords or bells either, and yet … 

He disrupted the shining stars in the lake when he stepped in the water, his skin suddenly covered in goosebumps. He was used to the cold water that not even the strongest sun could warm up and it didn’t stop his advance. He kept on walking until the water reached his chin. Then, and only then, did he let go of the silver bell in his hand, let it sink. His intentions became painfully clear to his mind then. He wasn’t stopping. A few more moments and he will be gone and almost nothing will be left. Panic grabbed him, making him breathe hysterically. 

Calm down.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Calm down, it will be alright.

Dive.

He followed the steps mechanically, Sandu in one hand and Zidian in the other. His long hair floated around him and drowned out the last of the light. His lungs started to complain - he was out of time.

And yet …

When he came to the last step …

He failed.

Nothing happened. His own, no, Wei Wuxian’s core resisted the transformation. It objected. It held it back instead of powering it. Even when everything inside him rushed towards the change, the core became a dead weight. Jiang Cheng would scream if he had any air left. He was useless, even in the end. He couldn't even …

Sandu cut through the water before he was even aware of his own actions. It seemed everything was too much, the weight pilling on his mind ever since the Guanyin temple crushing him underneath. The sword cut through his chest, his core, destroying it. 

He screamed this time, air bubbles mixing with red all around.

And then he shifted.

___________________________

Jiang Fengmian would hate to admit he was nervous. He didn’t show it, of course, but he was meeting with Meishan Yu’s leader for the first time and they weren’t famous for their flower picking. Unless the flowers were poisonous. Or they were some weird metaphor for their enemies.

He lifted his hand to subtly wipe away a drop of sweat. It was an extremely hot day even for Yunmeng's summer, the sun blazing like it had an unknown vendetta against the poor people below. The designated meeting place was in an old teahouse right on the Yunmeng’s border. The owner of the place had personally escorted him, bowing when he entered. He was a sect leader now and it was about time he got used to it. He had already met the sect leaders of the other bigger sects and his footing was secured. A mere Meishan Yu could do nothing to him.

And yet.

The teahouse had a large pavilion above one of Yunmeng’s countless lakes. The decorations were exquisite as only the most important guests were allowed in, mixing the old carvings with the modern ink paintings. The windows were opened wide to let the breeze in. Nothing but the vast lake could be seen - there were no places for spies to hide. Still, Jiang Fengmian knew better than to be careless and he placed talismans all around the room the moment he arrived.

That was half a day ago.

He was slowly working on emptying his third set of tea. Was he really stood up by a sect leader of a sect ten times smaller than his own? The nerve almost made him amused. He relaxed his perfect posture to look at the ceiling again, studying an interesting crack that ran across it. Just when he lifted the last of the cups to his lips he heard rushed steps in his direction. He gulped down the liquid and sighed.

Finally.

He had heard stories about Meishan Yu’s leader from his father so he knew what to expect. Strong. Stubborn. Formidable. Wise. Brilliant. She was his elder and he was prepared to greet her with the utmost respect. And yet he stilled and almost gaped at the newcomer because that was not Meishan Yu’s leader.

She was a sharp kind of beautiful, all edges with no softness underneath. Her eyes were blazing and he almost felt them ripping through his soul. They were gray like the storm clouds, but when she tilted her head just right, they shined purple. Her hair was styled modestly, framing her face and figure, and when she lifted her hands in a bow, lightning crackled around her ring like in a warning.

He’d been staring for too long.

Rushing to greet her he almost stumbled and she sneered, making him flinch in embarrassment. But his face gave away none of his emotions, keeping the warm front and gentle smile. 

“I don’t believe I had the pleasure of meeting you before,” said Jiang Fengmian, gesturing for her to sit. 

“You did not …” 

She stopped talking and gave the empty cups a pointed look. Fengmian sighed. He was still standing, acting like a host even though he was superior in the ranking, even though he was the one being invited to this meeting. Refusing to waver, he left the pavilion to find the steward and have him bring them another set. 

“Same as before?” asked the servant and Jiang Fengmian gave it some thought. He ordered the best tea they had for three times in a row, hoping the master of Meishan Yu would like it. It was as good as promised, but it was not to his taste and after six cups he was a little sick of it.

“Bring the spicy one,” he said instead, knowing that there is no place in Yunmeng that would not have spicy things. “And make it extra spicy.”

Was he being petty? Maybe a little.

“Yu Ziyuan,” she introduced herself when he returned. “Hair to Meishan Yu.”

He offered her a smile and sat down.

“Sect leader Jiang,” he replied, even though she had to know already.

She nodded, looking around to check the talismans. Her sleeve lifted a bit at her act and he could see a scroll inside, pressed tightly against her skin. Finally, she moved back into her perfect posture and faced him. She smiled and he took that as a sign his work was up to her standards.

“How was your …”

“Let’s skip the pleasantries,” she interrupted and he almost frowned. He had to admit he agreed since he had already wasted most of his day traveling and drinking tea and rethinking his life decisions. It didn’t skip his attention that she had never apologized for being terribly late.

“Fine. Why did Meishan Yu ask for this meeting? And why are you here and not your mother?” he got straight to the point, crossing his fingers in front of his chest.

“Because we want to form an alliance with the Yunmeng Jiang sect,” she replied confidently with a tone that implied he should be begging her for an alliance and not the other way around. “And we are going to do it through marriage. Of us. As soon as possible, too.”

He choked on air.

“I’m sorry,” he managed. “I already have somebody. I am flattered …”

“Don’t be,” she cut in. “And … are you sure you do have someone?”

He did not like her question.

“I am courting her,” he said and lifted his chin in defiance. He was the leader of a mighty sect and she was a mere hair. He didn’t have to do anything she said.

She waved her hand like his words meant nothing.

“That’s what your father said too when my mother asked,” Yu Ziyuan said almost absentmindedly. “But I believe our situation is different.”

Her words ripped through him. He knew Cangse Sanren would never break his heart on purpose, especially after she had already agreed to his courting, but she was a free spirit. Too many heads turned when she walked by for his liking, and even worse, she looked at them and smiled. She was untamed and wild and she never said she …

He moved his hands from his chest to his thighs, clenching his fists. Hard. Yu Ziyuan was getting to him.

“Why would I agree to such an alliance?” he asked, carefully keeping his voice patient. Calm. He shouldn’t show his distress.

Yu Ziyuan’s eyes shined like she was waiting for that question all along. She reached inside her sleeve and brought out the scroll, showing it to him in triumph.

“What do you know, sect leader Jiang, about shifting ?” she asked, her voice silky like she didn’t just utter the forbidden word. He stiffened. 

“Nothing,” he said quickly. Too quickly. Finally, he allowed his face to display his emotions, frowning as he tried to decipher her motives. Shifting was a dangerous thing to talk about.

She smiled, but it wasn’t a true smile, no - it was something akin to a smirk. She opened her alluring lips to continue, maybe to call out his obvious lie, but then her mouth snapped shut. He heard it a split second after her - the heavy steps of the servant, bringing their tea. They sat in silence and waited for the cups to be placed and filled. The atmosphere was awkward and Jiang Fengmian kept his eyes on his hands, willing the fists to relax. He didn’t move to lift the cup even when the servant bowed in a hurry and then straight up ran away. She didn’t either.

“The shifting?” he asked when they were left alone, because the sooner he knows, the sooner he can go home.

“Ah yes,” she said, nudging the scroll again but not unrolling it. She didn’t offer it to him either. “Yunmeng Jiang turns into a lotus flower, correct?”

“Yes,” he said unwillingly. Some of his own relatives had turned, hence the lotuses in Lotus Pier were sacred. If they weren’t sure they planted it, they didn’t dare touch it.

“And what of Cangse Sanren?” 

She knew her name. Why was he not surprised?

“Black dahlia,” he gritted out.

“Is she? How unusual,” Yu Ziyuan barely let him breathe in once before speaking again. She reached for the cup and he followed it with his eyes. He wanted to see - ah, there it was. The moment when she made a sip, her eyes widened almost comically and she coughed while desperately trying to hide the fact she didn’t see it coming at all. Then she coughed some more, placing the cup back down and looking almost vulnerable with her cheeks reddening. He smiled and she hesitantly smiled back.

“I suppose this is fair,” she said, her voice just a little rough. 

“And Meishan Yu?” he asked because like she said, it was only fair. Her smile twisted then and he regretted it instantly. 

“Snakes,” she said simply and he gapped once again. Because … snakes ?!

“I am unfamiliar with this flower,” he got out. It couldn’t possibly be …

“I am talking about animals,” she said proudly. “Meishan Yu’s cultivators shift into a living breathing snake.”

“Impossible,” he said because it had to be, but she didn’t look like someone who is lying. But if it was true? His thoughts raced. “Could that snake cultivate?”

Her smile widened.

“Did that snake cultivate?” he corrected his question, feeling horrified just by the thought. In legends animals could cultivate, but those were just stories. Myths. Tales. Not something that could happen next door.

“My grandmother,” she said and he felt his world turn. Meishan Yu’s previous leader, it’s founder, was a snake? And even before that, she was a cultivator? She had to be ancient. He felt the blood leaving his face, paling like he was about to collapse. He has been a sect leader for a year. He shouldn’t have to deal with earth-shaking revelations like that.

“Does she remember?” he asked because he had to.

“Not much,” she answered. She had to have known for a while, possibly since she was born, or she wouldn’t be staying calm like that. Or maybe it was normal to the people of Meishan? People turning into snakes and back? What a weird thought.

“She remembers bits and pieces,” she continued, ignoring Jiang Fengmian’s inner turmoil. “But one thing she is certain about … is this.”

She finally unrolled the scroll and he was scared of looking at it. Could there possibly be anything more to know? But familiar lines caught his gaze, the words he knew he read before.

“Secret lotus ritual,” he whispered, not trusting his own barriers enough to say it out loud. It was something every Jiang knew about and yet it was lost ages ago, nothing but a description left to the sect. It was a powerful thing, the lotus raised by it. If you ate it, it turned your golden core into something more, something formidable. It could even turn …

“A snake into a dragon,” he finished his thought out loud. It was outrageous, but so was a cultivator shifting into a snake.

“Precisely,” she confirmed and snatched the scroll away before he could take a good look at the details. “Our children could very well have a real shot at becoming a mythical beast.”

“I …” he hesitated. He knew he should accept. It was an unrefusable offer, a once in a lifetime chance. If they succeeded, the Yunmeng Jiang sect would be written down in history. His name would be whispered in legends. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t marry for alliance and he couldn’t live without Cangse Sanren. He loved her.

“Take your time,” she said, interrupting his thoughts. For the first time since he had met her, she sounded gentle. “I’ll find you in a week and you will give me your answer then.”

“It will be the same,” he said quietly.

“Even so,” she said after she got up, looking at him one last time. She moved with deadly elegance, her ring coated in lightning yet again. Both cups, still full, shook when she left. He stared after her, feeling lost.

A week passed by in a blur. He was so deeply shaken not only his parents or disciples, but even his servants had started asking about his health. Cangse hadn’t noticed anything, as she was usually blind about the wellbeing of those around her, but he still loved her deeply. Then he saw her kissing his most trusted adviser, his right-hand man. Or better said he was kissing her, but she wasn’t exactly resisting. Jiang Fengmian could have her if he wanted her, he knew that. But he couldn’t keep her. 

He met with Yu Ziyuan on the very same day. She pushed flowers into his arms the moment she arrived, pulling off a fierce look even though she was blushing wildly. They were lilies, she had probably visited the Cloud Recess. She had the same expression as last time but now he could recognize it for what it was. She was putting on a strong front. She was just as uncertain as he was underneath. 

He looked at her, really looked at her. He would mourn his love for as long as he lived, but it was time to choose.

“A dragon, you said?”

___________________________

She was round with his child when they planted the first lotus. They both bleed for it, blood mixing with the water. She looked lovely in purple, his purple. She was happier too, now that Cangse had left. She pretended less and smiled more.

Maybe someday he could love her. 

She brought her servants with her and they were accepted in the Yunmeng Jiang sect just like her. Her Spiders.

“Why spiders?” he asked her. “Why not snakes?”

“We cannot have anyone knowing our plans,” she replied, her hand protectively on her stomach. “Nobody will intervene in our plans.”

He understood then that it wasn’t her plans she had in mind. She was yet to give birth and she already loved her children enough to die for them.

And she didn’t want anyone to know, because the one thing Yu Ziyuan was afraid of more than failure, was for that failure to become known.

He looked at the peacefully floating lotus and placed his hand over hers.

Chapter Text

Mother was singing. It was dark, the Moon hiding behind the clouds. No stars were shining. But even when he barely saw anything, he could tell how beautiful she was. Her hair was flowing freely and her robes were loose. It was dark and they were alone, so it was okay. He knew she had never learned how to play any musical instruments as her birthplace deemed music to be unimportant. But she loved to sing and he joined her when he could, his childish voice sounding so wrong to him. She laughed when he said that and petted his head. 

“You will practice,” she said. “You will get better.”

She never said he was good. She never lied.

And she only sang at The Pond. 

The Pond was Jiang Cheng’s favorite place in the world. There was a tiny pond at the heart of Lotus Pier, surrounded by a broad-leafed rush and with only two lotuses inside. The water was as dark as a bottomless pit, but the lotuses in pink and white almost shined. Sometimes they moved even though there was no wind. And in the night, they floated across the starry sky.

At least one Spider was always lurking around, scaring Jiang Cheng if he showed up unannounced. He’d slowly move along the rush when the rush suddenly grew eyes! And then a dark clothed figure would jump out from his side, waving his hands and giving the child a tiny heart attack! His mother would laugh and he’d hide behind her, his puffy cheeks peeking out from her robes. 

His mother and father were allowed to visit The Pond alone, but he and his sister would need a guard to walk them. The lotuses were precious, too precious to let the children play around them freely.

No swimming in The Pond! No touching The Pond! No contact, not even breathing too close to The Pond with the lotuses there!

Those were the rules.

But even with all these rules, it was his favorite spot in the world. It was where his mother sang and laughed.

When he was eight, right before his birthday and the celebration that entailed, another lotus had joined the two. It had to be connected to his new brother, as his father called him, this Wei Ying.

“It won’t grow in time,” his mother had sneered at his father. “It’s useless.”

But father’s eyes rested on Wei Ying playing next to The Pond, closer than Jiang Chang or his sister have ever been allowed, and it was like he had never heard a word.

His mother never came to The Pond again after that day. She never sang again. She never laughed again either.

Four years later Jiang Yianli developed her golden core. A little later than usual, people said. She was a slow bloomer, nothing more to it. She had become quite a lady by then, already engaged and cooking like a pro. She had a gentle smile and rose-colored cheeks and was adored by all. They couldn’t find any fault with her, no matter how hard they looked. Jiang Cheng, on the other hand …

Failure. Losing to that bastard. To a servant. Unworthy.

If only he could be better, then maybe mother wouldn’t have to whip him anymore. She had cried the first time she did it and it was all his fault. But always him, never Yianli. She wasn’t the one that was all wrong. 

It was a big ceremony when she received her lotus. Two Spiders brought it, holding it carefully like it was made of glass. Yianli’s hands shook when she reached out for it. Her eyes skimmed over the crowd, searching for Wei Wuxian. She’d always look for him first and when she couldn’t find him, her gaze fell on Jiang Cheng, so he smiled reassuringly. She smiled back and took the first bite, her face twisting at the bitter taste. She still ate all of it, slowly gulping down the petals. 

“Good girl,” said her mother, placing her hands on Yianli’s shoulder. Her father placed his on her other shoulder and smiled. They looked like a real family at that moment, but then chaos arose when Wei Wuxian crashed the ceremony, riding a wild donkey and screaming on top of his lungs. He was banned from it by Madam Yu and she was not happy about it. Zidian flared, the Spiders yelled. Yianli laughed and Fengmian tried to calm down his wife.

The ceremony was a failure. Yianli’s talents were non-existent, her techniques the weakest yet. It was like the lotus had poisoned her instead, taking roots deep inside her chest and made her breath stutter sometimes. Madam Yu blamed Wei Wuxian, obviously. Her hatred ran deep after that.

And Jiang Cheng? He lost to Wei Wuxian more and more. He got punished more. He suffered it in silence, hating his weakness. 

Wei Wuxian developed his golden core when he was thirteen. A genius they called him. He laughed off the praises and went off to hunt pheasants, carefree like always.

That was the first time Madam Yu used Zidian on Jiang Cheng. He screamed, clawing the skin on his hands to distract himself from the terrible pain pulsing through his back. 

“Why can’t you be this good!” she yelled at him and he covered his face as a reflex. She taught him to never let her hit him where it showed and he would be good for her, obedient, and then maybe she’d stop hitting him and laugh instead like she used to. But he was too weak for that. He thanked her for the lesson and she hit him again. 

He cried himself to sleep that night, rolled in a ball. Yianli would comfort him if she knew, but she shouldn’t and she didn’t. It was his own fault, after all, and he refused to be seen this frail. He trembled under the covers and wished he could simply disappear. But what he didn’t know was that the worst was yet to come. His father took Wei Wuxian to The Pond at night. And he fed him Jiang Cheng’s lotus.

If there had ever been any love between his parents, it was gone the next morning.

___________________________

Jiang Cheng sat next to his lotus many times after that. It was originally Wei Wuxain’s lotus, obviously, but now nobody wanted it so he took it as his. Because nobody wanted him either. The Pond was abandoned, no guards remained. Why would they? The remaining lotus was worthless. 

He sat there and talked to the little lotus about things he could tell no one else. He cleaned The Pond and guarded it when needed. He firmly believed if he took good care of the little lotus, it would grow and shine like the other two. He loved it like he loved his mother and his father and his siblings. Jiang Cheng had a lot of love to give and he could be so gentle when he needed to be, so nice when his temper didn’t flare.

When Lotus Pier burned, the little lotus burned with it. Jiang Cheng was wrong once again - his good care was worth nothing at all and everything he loved turned to ash. 

___________________________

One of the best things about living in the mountains was the fact that the air was always fresh and delicious to breathe, neither too dry nor too wet. It was sunny in the summer, but the sun didn’t have the same strength as it did in the lower regions or on the mountain tops. The winters were harsh, of course, and they lasted longer than was common. Yunmeng would already be harvesting hay for the first time when Cloud Recess was still covered in snow. That was especially important to know if you were planning to plant anything, because it meant the flowers would bloom later and for less time, and some years trees would bear no fruit at all.

Lan Xichen had read all about it.

What good was a thousand book library if it had no scrolls on botany? He had disciples search for any mention of the theme for months and then he ordered supplies from nearby towns and started making his own garden in front of Hanshi. 

The first year was a disaster.

The books he read originated from all major provinces because Gosu Lan never had much interest in planting. His supplies and seeds were from lower regions as well and most of them did not survive the harsh winter of Cloud Recess. He almost gave up then, his mind returning to the dark place he so desperately tried to escape from. He thought he was doing better, but he wasn’t - the garden was just a pathetic distraction and he needed …

He stopped eating or leaving his rooms to get some fresh air, his failure hurting him deeply. He couldn’t understand it, just like he didn’t understand A-Yao’s motives or actions. He had been told he should be perfect since he was born, so how was it possible that he had created something so flawed?

And then Wangji told him something that shook him to the core.

“Brother,” he said, looking at him with those sad eyes that made Lan Xichen feel so wrong. “You need help.”

Because he really did, didn’t he? He was far from perfect, he knew that well, and he had accepted it long ago. And apparently, he couldn’t plant. That was fine. He needed … he needed help . It seemed like a brilliant idea.

He wrote letters that same night, sending them to all the larger sects, asking for their knowledge on the matter.

Nie Hausang responded first with some really good information on trying to grow plants where they usually don't grow. Jin Rulan sent him a golden hoe, which he has yet to discover a use for, but definitely looked nice. And Jiang Wanyin …

Jiang Wanyin showed up in person, looking as angry as usual, and carrying a large bag. He threw it before Lan Xichen’s legs where he stood frozen in surprise, one of his hands still holding Hanshi’s door and the other supporting the golden hoe.

“Let’s plant a fucking tree,” he said. He pointed in the general direction of the golden gift. “And get rid of that.”

He left Lan Xichan breathless, his mind for once forgetting that he was in seclusion, that he was supposed to be mourning and feeling guilty. Instead, he and Jiang Wanyin planted a tree. It was a larch, the one Wanyin told him would grow in the Cloud Recess without any issues and could later even be used to make musical instruments. It was such a tiny thing at first, smaller than Lan Xichen’s finger, and he was terrified something would happen to it. He watched over it as it grew and it was as high as his belt before the first winter came.

That was five years ago.

It didn’t take long until the larch was higher than Xichen and he liked to sit in its shade during summer. He could do that later, but for now he had plants to water and weeds to remove. His uncle would be so ashamed if he could see him right now. His white robes were covered in dirt, his hair messy and free. He’d felt bad about it at first, but then Wanyin told him he preferred to see him like that. That it made him look more carefree and mortal and less like something that’s about to disappear. His uncle, though … Well, it was unlikely he would show up anyway. He and Wangji had stopped coming by when they knew he was working, because … they hated his garden. They absolutely despised it. 

People said he was like his father, secluding himself from the world over his lost love indefinitely. But that was wrong, he was like his mother. Building a garden. And then someday, remaining there as a flower. Forever.

The first droplets of blood hit the ground before he even noticed he was clenching his fists too hard. It was what he had wanted, in the beginning, but now … Now he met Wanyin. Now he wanted, for the first time in a while, to simply exist alongside somebody else.

His fingers touched his chest, felt for the little bump underneath his upper robe.

Another dirty mark.

It was a letter he got in the morning and he didn’t know if he should laugh or cry every time he remembered the words.

He still felt ashamed when he thought about the argument they had. It was a bad day, the worst he had had in a while, and he lashed out in a way he knew he shouldn’t have. He had wanted to tell Wanyin how scared he was of him leaving, how insecure he got when he noticed he was growing attached, but it came out all wrong. 

I never want to see you again.

Did he really say that? How could he, when it was the furthest from the truth? Lans don’t lie and yet he did. He wanted to punish himself, but he didn’t know how. If he starved, if he grounded himself, Wanyin would be sad. His brother and uncle would misunderstand and blame others and Xichen couldn’t have that. 

So he punished himself the only right way. 

“I’m ending my seclusion,” he told his uncle who nearly collapsed at the news. 

“Xichen,” he said with tears in his eyes, not knowing what else to say. They both knew how close Lan Xichen once got to shifting, and the relief that he didn’t was immeasurable.

“I want to visit Lotus Pier,” said Xichen when Lan Qiren had calmed himself. Then he corrected his words. “I need to visit Lotus Pier.”

So here he was, taking care of his garden to prepare it for his possibly long absence. He watered the last flower and took one more look at the larch (it grew straight up thanks to the golden hoe they had used for its support, which was still stuck half absorbed in the tree) and then walked to Hanshi to change his clothes.

Wanyin had written the most ridiculous things in the latter. He apologized for disturbing Lan Xichen for years like he could do that without sect leader Lan’s permission. He apologized for the argument like it was his fault. And worst of all, the subtone of the letter seemed like he was apologizing for merely existing and that frightened Lan Xichen. 

When he meets him, hopefully in the evening this very same day, he will tell him precisely how important he is. How much he helped with his presence. And just how much Xichen craves to stay by his side. Because his heart broke when he realized Wanyin didn’t know or believe any of that.

He grabbed the letter tightly and placed it under the new clean robes. He had to hurry or he wouldn't arrive before nightfall. He hung Liebing from his belt and reached for Shuoyue … and stopped. 

Wanyin had helped him clean the blood that still stuck to the blade after years and he … he had snapped … and they had argued …

Maybe he should wait in seclusion some more time. A few days to clear his mind. It should suffice if he simply sent another letter to Wanyin, if he explained that he did in fact want to see him again. Maybe Wanyin would come to him and he wouldn’t have to use …

He walked in circles, out of Hanshi and back inside - fleeing from Shuoyue to his brush and ink and then back again. It was getting late, he really shouldn’t travel such a long distance for the first time. He nodded to himself, certain nobody could blame him for taking one more day to leave his home and visit Wanyin. He already made it halfway across his garden this time, the furthest he’d been so far, and he turned to flee back inside. And then …

“Sect leader Lan!”

He heard rushed steps, not running since it was forbidden but the closest thing. He looked over his shoulder, a group of Lan disciples hurrying towards him, and behind them … Yunmeng Jiang disciples?!

The timing was all too convenient for him not to worry. His eyes searched for sect leader Jiang, but he wasn’t there. He wasn’t there.

The Yunmeng disciples bowed and spoke before the greeting was even completed.

“We need your help, Zewu-jun!” they cried. There was despair in their eyes.

“What happened?” he asked, because maybe Wanyin was simply obeying his words of not seeing him again. That was the best explanation he had on why the other sect leader wasn’t present.

“There is … in the middle of Lotus Pier … is …” the first disciple stuttered, unable to continue. 

“A beast,” finished another disciple, looking at the ground. They were hiding something, shifting on their feet and their eyes downcast.

“Is anyone injured?” Xichen asked, because if Wanyin was fighting, then obviously he’d only sent his disciples to get help. The disciples shook their heads and he let out a breath of relief.

“We need to calm it down,” said one of the disciples and the others nodded eagerly. “And we don’t think anyone but you could manage it.”

“I … I don’t know,” said Xichen, feeling frustrated. He had just decided he wasn’t ready yet and this push was entirely unwelcomed. A vile, embarrassing part of his mind even suggested this was a scheme to make him leave his seclusion. But Wanyin was nothing but patient every time he visited and Xichen was ashamed of his own thoughts. “Wangji … Wangji could maybe …”

“It’s a dragon!” blurted one of the youngest disciples present and everyone stared at him, the Lans in disbelief and the Jiang disciples in horror.

“That’s impossible,” deadpanned one of Lan disciples. Nobody has ever seen a dragon before. Sure, they existed in legends, but in real life? Yeah, no.

“What did sect leader Jiang say about the creature?” asked Xichen because if Wanyin believed it to be a dragon as well … Then it was no wonder he was the one they called.

Yunmeng Jiang disciples looked at one another, clearly uncomfortable with the question.

“Sect leader Jiang …” finally said the oldest one. “Nobody has seen sect leader Jiang since yesterday.”

And Xichen was running, the disciples gapping at his actions but he didn’t care. He was outside the barrier before he even realized what he was doing and then he was flying because … because …

Because in the letter Wanyin had sounded like he was about to die and Xichen didn’t know what he’d do if that was true.

Chapter Text

The moment Lan Xichen landed on Yunmeng land, right outside the Lotus Pier, he stumbled. He was tired and he had pushed himself too far, flying faster than ever before. His heart was beating wildly, pumping the blood in his veins, because something was very very wrong and Jiang Wanyin was right at the center of it. He feared his energy was depleted, but still … he was asked to come and he was prepared to do anything to help. He snapped Shuoyue in its scabbard because if there really was a dragon in the center of Lotus Pier, the sword was the last thing he’d need.

The guards startled when he rushed past them, but didn’t give him a second glance, because the way they stood, the way they were turned … They were trying to keep something in, not out. The entirety of  Lotus Pier was coated in an eerie silence, feeling even more unnatural when he compared it to his limited memories of the place. Always bursting with energy and life, filled with people and laughter - not empty streets and the whispers of the breeze. His steps were too loud. Even Cloud Recess was never this quiet.

Finally, a flash of purple, and Xichen gasped.

The next street he wandered into was filled with disciples. Most of them sat between two buildings, their purple robes wrapped around their shaking figures. They turned when he passed, their eyes following his movements. Most of them were young, too young to fight any beast. They had had to gather them here to keep them safe.

Two disciples lied between them, healers covering them from view. But he could smell blood. It had to be recent if the disciples that had come for him had thought everyone was safe. He almost went to them, almost offered his help … But he was needed elsewhere and he shook his head in sadness, praying the healers could save them. His white robes whirled after him when he hurried on, avoiding the disciple’s gazes before they became too much.

What were they thinking? Did they know what he had let A-Yao do, did they judge him for it?

The smell of blood entered his nose again and he gripped Liebing. His insecurities were the least of his worries.

He finally reached the entrance to the sect buildings and he let out a low groan at the state of it. It was shredded to pieces like something huge had crashed into it. If the beast could do that to mighty wooden pillars, what would happen to any human that got too close? Liebing was now in his hands, his fingertips pressing against it until they turned completely white. One more turn and there they were. The oldest disciples from the sect, the ones sect leader Jiang trusted the most and sent to night hunts, were before him. They were behaving strangely, crawling on the ground like animals. Finally they noticed him, waving fiercely for him to get down .

He hunched, slowly moving towards Wanyin’s right hand man. The younger cultivator looked at him, too many emotions in his eyes to decipher, and then he wordlessly pointed towards one of the guest buildings. Xichen turned his eyes in the pointed direction and …

Oh, gods.

There was something dark and huge inside. It was definitely bigger than any creature Xichen had encountered so far. He couldn’t see much through the windows, but whatever was pressing against them, moving, slithering, looked like a gigantic snake. He could make out scales and occasionally something silver. 

He had questions, many of them, but there was probably a reason for the silence, probably trial and error which had caused the injured disciples. So he held himself back and simply lifted Liebing to his lips, blowing the strongest calming melody he knew. His hands trembled just barely because it was that melody, those notes that he had taught ... He shook his head, the melody interrupted for a moment. He kept his eyes closed when playing, his focus trying to force what little spiritual energy he had left to cooperate, so he needed some time to feel how the head disciple of Yunmeng Jiang had stiffened next to him.

He opened his eyes, trying to see what was wrong. At first he didn’t understand, but then … Ah. The creature had stopped moving. The scales were clearly visible now, and something like a silver mane pressed against one of the windows. He looked at the disciple without breaking the music and the other cultivator furiously shook his head. He could already predict sect leader Lan’s next move. Xichen merely smiled grimly behind the Liebing, disregarding the silent warning and walked closer to the occupied room. Nothing happened when he carefully stepped across the dark ground, now standing tall. He could feel the creature’s eyes on him, but he kept on moving.

Finally, he reached the door.

He had to stop playing to open it, reaching out in hesitation. The silence felt deafening. He could detect no movement from the inside, so he swallowed and slowly opened the door. It let out a long creak that made him flinch and yet nothing happened, until the door between him and the creature was gone. And on the other side … He needed a split second to understand what he was seeing and then he froze in shock and terror. He was looking straight into the creature’s eyes. 

And he was close enough that he could reach out and touch it.

The creature’s head was long and narrow, shaped like that of a horse, but covered in dark scales. Black, he thought at first, but then a ray of the setting sun flashed across them and he knew they were very dark purple. Silver markings were trailing from the nostrils to his eyes and around them, disappearing further down the body. The horns were brighter than the body itself, but not by much, and he could already see the difference between the upper and the lower body. Between the horns a silver mane started, covering the top of the creature’s body all the way down to the tail. White feathers were mixed within it like decorations. Two ears twitched below the horns, half hidden in the silver decor. And the eyes … the eyes were a gray bottomless pit he almost lost himself in. The head tilted and the eyes flashed silver.

That was his only warning.

The creature moved so fast Lan Xichen could do nothing but feel himself being thrown all the way back to the entrance, rolling on the ground after landing. He felt something break and he held back a yell.

He unshed Shuoyue with his left hand because his right was useless, broken, and he lifted the sword in a desperate attempt to protect himself. He lost Liebing at the impact and now he’d have to fight. He looked up when he felt something move and then he froze, his blood turning into ice, because …

Because that was a dragon.

It was standing before him, its head two Xichens high in the air. It had four legs supporting its long, snake-like body, tail ending in a sheaf of feathers and mane. Each leg had five sharp claws that were probably as long as Shuoyue and Xichen gulped nervously. But he had to admit that the dragon was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen, purple and silver mixing on the canvas of rapidly a darkening sky. He realized he was still holding his sword and he dropped it like it had burned him, well aware he could never hurt the being before him. The loud sound startled the dragon, its eyes snapping down to Xichen and it bared its fangs. Xichen gulped again. 

The dragon seemed sleepy, likely still under the effects of the Song of Clarity he had played earlier, but its tail waved like a cat’s and Xichen smiled.

“Why are you here?” he whispered, realizing the dragon snapped at any louder sound. “Why are you attacking innocent people like that?”

The dragon’s eyes were unfocused when it lowered his head to Xichen’s height, and it bared its fangs again, growling at the cultivator.

Lan Xichen sighed. He wished he had Liebing with him so he could make the dragon go to sleep and then examine him. Was he cursed? 

Drip.

Drip. Drop.

His eyes widened. Something was dripping down the dragon’s fangs and its stomach. It looked like water to him earlier because it was dark and the dragon was even darker, but it couldn’t possibly be wet. After all it had been chased around by disciples for almost a day now and so … The smell!

He had been smelling blood ever since he came through the remains of the entrance, but he had thought it was human …

His heart clenched when he realized the dragon was bleeding terribly, leaving a dark trail behind himself. Blood droplets slithered down his scales and Lan Xichen wanted to cry at the sight. Who could possibly be so heartless to injure such a magnificent creature? 

“I want to help you,” he whispered, reaching out to touch the dragon’s head. It let him and Xichen almost melted at the feeling of cold scales underneath his fingers. He sent the last of his spiritual energy to heal the dragon and he gasped at the weird sensation. It felt like throwing stones into a well, only to not hear them fall to the ground. It felt like the dragon ate his energy. Fascinating.

“Sect. Leader. Lan.” 

Yunmeng Jiang’s head disciple was more mouthing than whispering the words, his face peeking from behind the building. 

“Can he come here?” asked Lan Xichen, believing the dragon was intelligent and could understand his words. He stared at the beautiful gray eyes and waited for an answer. He got none.

“Come here, slowly,” said Xichen, no longer whispering. He felt the dragon stir under his fingers at the sound, its fangs showing again.

“It’s okay,” he tried to reassure him, lifting his broken hand as well to slide on the side of the dragon’s head. “He will help. Trust me.”

The disciple reached them, fear making him deathly pale. His eyes moved between Xichen and the dragon and his expression bordered on panic. His entire body shook when he touched one of the dragon’s legs, huge claws flexing right next to him. He started pouring his energy into the dragon and Xichen let go of the head.

“I will take a look at your stomach,” he announced, the disciple’s eyes going wide. He paid the younger cultivator no mind while walking along the dragon, looking for any damage. It looked relatively okay, only minor scratches and missing scales which was probably the result of its rampage. The problem started on the chest between its forelegs. A long and wide wound, stretched all the way to its stomach high above them. Xichen frowned, trying to appraise the injury. It looked bad - if he was correct in his assumptions, the dragon was right on the brink of bleeding out. He placed his left hand on the dragon's side, caressing the slick scales. 

“You poor thing,” he murmured, feeling the mighty muscles under his hand tense, trying to keep the dragon’s body standing. He needed to get it to lay down so they could bandage the wound, but he had no idea how to go about it. The dragon seemed intelligent to a point and yet Xichen couldn’t see himself ordering it around. 

“Sect leader Lan,” said Wanyin’s right hand man, carefully approaching. His caution was well placed since Xichen felt the dragon's muscles shift and in the next moment, the huge beast lashed out. The disciple screamed and Yunmeng’s Jiang’s second in command yelped, rolling out of the way.

“Sect leader Lan!” he screamed in panic, trying to get Xichen’s attention. He had it, for a moment, long enough to throw Liebing and for Xichen to catch it. He brought it to his lips without hesitation, not even trying to calm the dragon down anymore, attempting to put it to sleep instead. It was working, he could tell, seeing how the creature stumbled, turning its head to look at Xichen. Its eyes were closing, legs buckling. 

“It will fall!” the second in command warned the young disciple, who stood frozen with wide open eyes. “Move!”

Too late. The dragon stumbled one last time, before it collapsed straight on the disciple. Xichen and Jiang’s second in command rushed forward, desperately reaching for the younger cultivator. Xichen watched the other man pale at the sight of the blood pooling under the sleeping dragon. The death of a mythical beast was a terrible omen, a sign of great calamity. 

Xichen dropped on his knees next to the spot where the disciple got buried, not caring for the large red stains his clothes suffered.

“Go,” he said, squeezing the hand sticking out from below the dragon and felt it squeeze back. “Get the healers. They should bring everything they have. We are saving it.”

The man gulped and nodded, running away in the direction of the sect buildings. So they weren’t as abandoned as it seemed. 

“Can you hear me?” he gently asked the disciple, not knowing how to pull without causing any further harm.

“Y-yes,” came muffled from under the dragon. “But there is something … can you lift over here?”

His hand snapped from Xichen’s hold and poked at the dragon’s side. It made Xichen conflicted. Of course he could, but that was right at the center of the dragon’s injury. He really didn’t want to agitate it further. What was that something, he wondered. He was well aware he spent too much of his time being indecisive already. Now was time for action.

“Hold on,” he said, reaching under the scaled body right under where the disciple's hand was pointing. “Get ready to crawl out.”

He raised his hands with all his strength and slowly lifted the dragon’s body. It was dark by then, the scales looking completely black. The disciple that crawled past him was nothing but a dark shade and even Xichen’s own white robes looked gray, so it was no wonder he missed it at first. He was about to lay the dragon back down when the disciple grabbed his hand, stopping him. He pointed forward and Xichen finally saw. It looked like a stick at first, but after some squirming it became clear it was a sword. A sword, stuck in the dragon’s stomach. Xichen felt sick.

“A cultivator did this,” he said, his voice rough. He was on the verge of crying. Who’d even dare?

Yunmeng Jiang’s second in command was hurrying towards them, healers right behind him and servants carrying supplies, bringing lights with them. They surrounded the dragon, passing hushed commands and immediately started with the treatment. One of the healers kneeled next to the head disciple, looking him over. He had a torch in his hands, lowering it almost to the ground when he started asking questions.

But the disciple wasn’t answering - he was staring forward, his face so pale he could have been a dead man. Xichen was no better. His hands started to shake, nearly letting go of the dragon. 

“I need some help over here!” yelled the healer after realizing the situation. A group of senior disciples rushed over, dropping to the ground next to Xichen and lifting the burden out of his hands. 

“We need to get it out,” said the healer, stubbornly refusing to feel shaken. He held the torch closer with a steady hand, his voice calming. “Somebody should pull it out.”

Xichen was the first to move, everyone else refusing to even touch the damned thing. He grabbed the handle and pulled, the sword leaving the body with a sickening sound. He moved away then, gave his space to the healers, and tried to stand only to fall right back on his knees.

Because …

He pressed the sword against his chest, his lips trembling, his eyes filling with tears that refused to spill. There had to be an explanation. Wanyin would come back and yell at him for being stupid and jumping to conclusions when all he had … He should stop. A dragon was bleeding out two steps away and Xichen was on the ground moping because …

Because that was Sandu in his hands.

___________________________

Jin Ling liked to crawl. Well, of course he liked to crawl, he was a toddler. Toddlers crawled.

Jiang Cheng sighed and then threw the book he was reading to the pile (only to lift it up and place it back gently right after - most of the books in Lotus Pier were gone and he had to watch over the remaining ones …). There was something terrorizing the nearby village and he had to figure out what, before heading there with his disciples. He snorted. His disciples . Half of them were a talentless lot that was once refused from entering the sect because they had as little talent as Jiang Cheng’s little toe. The other half were rogue cultivators and Jiang Cheng swore he had seen donkeys with more discipline. Not that he wasn’t grateful they were even prepared to go, to be here with him, to rebuild … And yet he was painfully aware he would end up doing everything again and if he failed like so many times before all of them would die.

He sighed, pressing his hands against his temples to combat the headache. He could ask the larger sects for help. He could ask, but … Nie Mingjue would probably call him weak and scold him for even attempting to rebuild with such a puny force. Jin Guangshen would take it as a sign sect leader Jiang is not good enough to either rule or raise his nephew and he’d take Jin Ling away and Jiang Cheng couldn’t have that. And Gosu Lan would probably show up. They never missed a chance to show others their righteousness, after all. But then Jiang Cheng would have to look at the bloody Lans the entire day.

I thought we were friends. 

He groaned, angry at his thoughts. He was foolish enough to believe the close companionship he had developed with Lan Xichen during their days on the run and the war meant something to the other man. He had thought they could be friends after … don’t even go there … but the older cultivator only replied: “I have to take care of my brother. I will write to you as soon as I can.” to Jiang Cheng’s first attempt at a friendly letter. He never got any reply after that, so he let them become strangers once again. 

A loud crash woke him up from his thoughts and he bolted upwards. Heartbreaking cries froze the blood in his veins.

“Jin Ling!” he called desperately, well aware he had forgotten about the child completely. He followed the sound of wailing, lifting his nephew into his arms and trying to shush him. He was alright, as far as Jiang Cheng could tell, only startled after a pile of scrolls collapsed before him. 

“It’s alright, you’re alright,” he repeated, as much to reassure himself as to reassure the toddler. Jin Ling slowly stopped crying, his eyes closing and he fell asleep in Jiang Cheng’s arms, gently rocking him left and right. 

“Somebody should really clean this up,” he murmured, knowing that somebody could only be himself. He trusted no other with the priceless knowledge of the Yunmeng Jiang’s sect, or what was left of it at least. Not yet. He reached out to place scrolls back on their rightful place when his eyes landed on the one on the top. It had probably been buried deep before, that’s why he had never seen it before. It was sealed, which was weird in itself, and the seal on it looked much older than his father’s. 

He should leave it. Things were usually sealed for a reason. It had nothing to do with his search for answers or his attempts at rebuilding. And yet …

When he walked away from the remains of the library, when he placed Jin Ling in his cradle and went to gather his disciples, the scroll was securely tucked into his sleeves. Just in case, he told himself. Only for the time he needed to know.

He knew the moment he touched it that it was a shifting manual. He knew from a voice inside his head. A warning or a temptation, that he couldn’t tell.

He broke the seal much later, when the night fell and the disciples he had lost at the seemingly simple night hunt were buried. He stood next to the lake, a breeze playing with his ribbon and wiping his falling tears. He heard a sound then, a song. It seemed terribly sad. He was hearing Liebing, that he knew, but he had no idea where the sound was coming from.

“Wake up,” whispered the song. “Wake up, Jiang Wanyin. I need you.”

But he couldn’t. He was stuck too deep in his memories. At first they seemed to consume him and then disappear like they had never existed. He couldn’t recall his parents' names. He couldn’t remember what his sister looked like. Did he have a brother? Did he … who was he again?

He couldn’t recall.

He could only listen to the song. It seemed terribly sad.

Chapter Text

Lan Xichen could get used to this. Waking up at 5, hearing nothing but silence since Lotus Pier was still sound asleep. It was so different from Gosu’s bells and hushed steps. The sun was already up, shining through the windows and making the scales before Xichen sparkle. 

That’s one more thing he could get used to - a huge dragon wrapped around him like an overgrown possessive snake. The cold scales cooled him down where they pressed against his robes and the silver mane tickled his neck. Loud but calm breaths were heard on his left, ruffling his hair when they passed. Xichen lifted one of his hands, the one that was free and didn’t have a tail wrapped around it, and pet the dragon’s snout. He - as the healers had told him, Xichen was too embarrassed to take a look himself - merely let out a low sound, making no indication he was about to wake up. And that was okay. The dragon was still recovering, and though the healers had said he was no longer in any danger, he needed rest. It has been two weeks since he came to Yunmeng. 

It has been two weeks since anyone saw Wanyin.

Xichen had never stopped hopping. The first day they found sect leader Jiang’s clothes torn on the bank of the lake, presumingly at the location where the dragon first came ashore, and the hopes of everyone else died. But not Xichen. The clothes were torn alright, but not torn off which was the important part. It had now been two weeks and even his hopes were fading, but he refused to believe Wanyin was killed by the dragon that was currently wrapped around him. The dragon that acted no different than a dog once his injuries began to heal.

“Look at you,” he whispered, his fingers sliding down the dark scales. “So beautiful.”

He had to be the luckiest man alive, not only seeing a dragon in his lifetime, but even gaining his trust. Now if only Wanyin were found! Xichen imagined what his face would look like once he’d seen the beast and chuckled. The dragon, seemingly detecting Xichen’s change of mood, turned his head and slept on. But in doing so, one of his horns started poking at the cultivator until he was uncomfortable enough to get up. As he carefully untangled himself, the tail touched the naked skin at Xichen’s ankle and he shuddered. 

“You’re cold,” he accused the dragon who did nothing but open one eye and look at the funny human before him. At least Xichen thought the dragon found him funny with how his lips lifted from his teeth and he made a low sound. 

He changed into more proper clothes. He had them sent from Gosu along with the letters and reports he had to go through as a sect leader. He had told his uncle he would be staying in Lotus Pier for a while without saying anything of the current situation as the Yunmeng Jiang sect continued to act as if nothing was wrong. He helped Jiang sect’s second in command do the duties of a sect leader, but he refused to allow the other to settle into the sect leader’s position. It belonged to Wanyin.

“I’ll get us breakfast,” he told the dragon, straightening his elegant white clothes. He and the dragon were given the biggest guest room Lotus Pier could offer that wasn’t destroyed in the dragon's rampage, and yet Xichen barely had any space for himself. Enough for a coffer with clothes and enough for a bed. The rest was a mess of scales and mane and claws.

“Stay,” he said to the dragon when he made a long whine when Xichen opened the door. “I’ll be right back.”

That was now his routine every morning - getting up, petting the dragon, going to the kitchen and getting them breakfast. Well, taking something for himself and then trying to see if the dragon would fancy anything. He has been unsuccessful so far and the beast refused to eat ever since he had shown up unannounced and freaked out the people of Yunmeng. 

Lotus Pier was lively again, no sign of the eerie silence from two weeks ago anywhere. He met servants and elders on his journey to get the food, they bowed and he bowed back, and he stopped to watch the disciples practicing. They started as early as possible, training until the sun set. He was told this wasn’t usually the case, but now … Now they felt like everything had changed. Their sect leader was missing, Lotus Pier was damaged and they felt useless. Lan Xichen felt useless. He wondered if Wanyin felt like this when the Lotus Pier was burned down. But he at least did something about it, not like Xichen who was walking around only to get breakfast. Disgraceful. 

The head disciple smiled at him from the training field and he smiled back. The younger cultivator had spent a few nights in the healing pavilion and now he was back on his feet. His cheek still looked bruised when he led the other disciples, showing the youngest ones a sword technique. The female one stumbled and he caught her easily and the way she looked all sheepish, reminded Xichen of his garden. Was Wangji at least watering the flowers? He hoped so.

His fingers twitched at his sides, his muscles forced to form a smile. He would burn down his garden, flower by flower, if only that’d return Wanyin to them.

They waited with his order in the kitchen, even as they rushed to get everyone’s breakfast made. He could see the fire burning, the water boiling and an old woman carrying a heavenly smelling pot past him, his head turning after her in reflex. The younger cook that brought him his food laughed. 

“You get that tomorrow,” she said, heading back towards a large cauldron, evading a servant with a mountain of teacups along the way.

“Right,” said Xichen. “Tomorrow.”

Because tomorrow he’d still be here, babysitting a dragon and waiting for Wanyin to come back. 

He staggered right outside the kitchens, all of the breakfast falling on the ground and he was too tired to pick it up. He knew people had worked hard for it. He knew leaving food on the ground was against everything he stood for. And yet he couldn’t bring himself to do it, his vision blocked by tears. Every step back towards his rooms was harder.

Because Wanyin wasn’t coming back.

Because he was killed by your beloved dragon.

The voices in his head were incredibly loud, almost like somebody was whispering the words right into his ears.

Two weeks ago he had fallen on the ground and pressed the purple sword against his body, not caring if his clothes got cut on the sharp blade. The disciples and servants and healers were nothing but a background noise in his ears. At some point somebody had brought his sword back to him and had laid it down next to Liebing. He didn’t care.

Since when were his feelings for the other sect leader so strong? Had he not learned his lesson, giving his heart away freely only to have it brutally crushed in the end?

It started raining, heavy drops hitting the ground and splashing against Lan Xichen’s pale face. The fire in the torches hissed and died, shadows and then darkness filing the area. Xichen stayed there, resisting the hands trying to move him. He had been doing so well before, well enough to leave seclusion, but now it all came crashing down again. If something had really happened to Wanyin, then their last conversation would be that stupid argument. All because of Xichen, who couldn’t let go of the ghosts even as the lives of others were at stake. The perfect Jade of Gosu? What a joke.

He was soaking wet in no time, shivering at the cold. He wanted to stay there forever and yet he wanted to go home at the same time. Home to his garden, doing what he was doing before Jiang Wanyin pulled him out of it.

He was being ridiculous. Wanyin would come out at any moment, fuming with both anger and worry at the Xichen’s state. He’d call Xichen a moron, tell him what a fool he is for believing something as stupid as a dragon would make him disappear.

“I’ve survived much worse than a dragon,” he’d sneer. “Now get out of this fucking rain, you look like a sick puppy.”

And in that moment, the rain stopped. He looked up, first thinking the sky itself had fallen. But it hadn’t, it was a dark dragon, shielding him from the rain. Xichen’s breath hitched when two silver orbs pierced through him from the darkness. 

“Thank you,” he whispered, the water drops on his cheeks shining like tears.

The dragon never left his side from then on. Only if Xichen explicitly ordered him to stay, he sulked in their room, whining like a kicked dog. The healers of Yunmeng Jiang suspected the dragon was very young, since his behaviour towards Xichen reminded them of a young chick calling for his mother. Very young? He was so huge Xichen thought he was ancient at first. Thinking he’ll grow even more made his head spin. But he was welcome company, chasing away the nightmares with a warm breath to Xichen’s neck.

He could never hate him, not even if he really had caused harm to Wanyin. No, he could only hate himself for it.

“I’m sorry, no breakfast today …” he said when he entered his room, only to stop at the sight. Yunmeng Jiang’s second in command was standing there, clearly very uncomfortable. He and the dragon had come a long way since that first day. The dragon no longer lashed out, but he still bared his teeth in warning and the man moved as far away as possible, looking relieved to see Xichen.

“I … uh,” he said, stopping as if preparing himself. “I came to get the sword.”

“Why?” answered Xichen, his tone as sharp as Shuoyue. He hastily wiped his face to make sure no tear marks remained. “What do you need it for?”

He had kept Sandu and cleaned all the blood off it, keeping it safe for Wanyin.

The younger cultivator sighed, his shoulders sagging and his eyes turning sad. 

“We will bury it,” he said. “We have no body to mourn, but it has been two weeks …”

“No,” Xichen’s answer was fast and absolute. “He is still alive, I know he is. How would he feel knowing you covered his sword with dirt? Ridiculous.”

“Sect leader Lan, please,” the man pleaded and Xichen abruptly realized he never asked for his name. He had simply never cared. “I knew sect leader Jiang better than you. I loved him more than you. He was my leader. But it’s time to let him go. The dragon killed him.”

Lies, thought Xichen. It was forbidden to say such lies. 

But then the other cultivator reached into his pocket and pulled something out, something that made Xichen lose his balance. He’d have fallen if the dragon hadn't caught him, moving his mighty tail to support him. That was Wanyin’s bell in the other cultivator’s hand.

“We found it on the bottom of the lake,” he said quietly. “But we couldn’t find sect leader Jiang’s body.”

“So you’re saying the dragon … what? Ate him?” said Xichen desperately. “You cannot seriously believe that.”

It was then that the dragon made a coughing sound, almost like he was choking. The cultivators looked at him in worry.

“What’s with him?” asked the second in command when the sound repeated.

“I don’t know,” admitted Xichen wearily. “He’d never …”

He stopped talking and jumped away when the dragon lunged forward, puking something on the other cultivator’s feet. Once again he reminded them that he was a mythical beast, like nothing the mortals have ever seen before, as there was no saliva or acid. There was only a ring, bouncing from the second in command’s feet and rolling all the way to Xichen.

Zidian.

“I have to go,” he managed, before running away.

He heard a commotion behind him, reminding him he had forgotten to tell the dragon to stay. He had to keep on walking, the voices in his head screaming so loudly they drowned out all the other sounds. He lifted his hands, clenching the hair on the sides of his head strong enough to almost pull it out. He had to look crazed to everyone around, because they moved like a sea, opening a path. Or maybe they moved because he had a dragon following him, their eyes wide with wonder.

Xichen abruptly realized he had wandered to the bank of the lake, to the spot where they had found Wanyin’s clothes. He fell to his knees, dirtying another set of robes with mud, but he couldn’t find it in him to care. He tried to imagine what happened, what would make sect leader Jiang attack something so sacred like a dragon. 

It was dark when he went on a walk, the guards had told him. He was acting unusual, distressed. He had to have seen the dragon in the water when he walked by the lake. The dragon looked like a large snake in the dark and Wanyin, already distracted and plagued with dark thoughts, had to have assumed it was a beast, a danger to the Lotus Pier and his sect. He attacked to defend his people and the dragon fought back, killing Wanyin in the process. And then he ate him …

Xichen remembered the size of the dragon's mouth. It was big, definitely, but not big enough to swallow a person whole. He would have had to tear Wanyin to pieces, feeding on his flesh. Was that why he refused to eat? Was he still full with human meat?

Xichen’s mind conjured an image of the dragon ripping out Wanyin’s guts, his limbs …

He tumbled over, throwing up acid because he hadn't eaten anything yet. He heaved, his body shaking uncontrollably. Wanyin was distressed because of the argument they had had. If he hadn’t been, then maybe … He’d still be here. It was all Lan Xichen’s fault, everything was ... 

The dragon pressed against his back and he hated how he found that comforting. 

“I wish you were the one that died,” he told the terrible, terrible truth and yet the dragon only let out a low sound, like a hum, and laid down. He placed his head next to Xichen, staring at him with the gray pools that were his eyes. His scales were much lighter in the strong sun, clearly purple like the rarest of sunsets. Xichen touched his mane, combing through it with his fingers and the dragon closed his eyes, starting to purr. His tail tapped on the ground on the other side of the cultivator and Xichen smiled weakly.

“They will bury the bell and the ring and even the sword, now that you have moved and they don’t need me to pull it from under you,” he said because he just had to get it out. “And they will probably burn his robes and store or give away his things.”

One single tear slipped down his cheek.

“You are the only thing that will be left of Wanyin,” he told the dragon. “And yet I will have to let you go when you’re fully healed and then I will have nothing.”

The dragon let out a growl, clearly dissatisfied with Xichen’s tone. 

“Will you leave me?” he pressed on. “Will you just disappear one day?”

The purple head rose up and he felt a warm tongue lick his cheek. The white markings were clear in front of his face and he frowned, touching them gently. The pattern reminded him of the one on Zidian, only the one on the dragon did not end but trailed further down his body.

“Who are you really?” he asked when the dragon moved his head a bit away. “Where did you come from?”

Again, he got no answers. The dragon titled his head and blinked and then he moved with a speed that startled Xichen. He crashed into the water with a loud splash and sent waves across the entire lake and crashing into the shore. He lifted his head above the dark surface and looked at Xichen like a happy puppy, one of the lotus flowers getting tangled in his horn, hanging from his side. 

And Lan Xichen threw his head back and laughed.

___________________________

The boat traveled quietly, cutting through the water like a sharp knife, leaving no trail but the tiny waves. It was smaller than most of the other boats, but Xichen had asked for it. It wasn’t even covered, merely a bamboo framework. It had no way of steering or moving in any given direction, so he let the water carry him along. He could see inside the lake, a shadow moving through it, but not to the bottom which was covered in darkness. There were lotuses blooming on both sides of the boat and he looked at them with longing. He then closed his eyes and lifted Liebing to his lips.

He played only the saddest and most heartbreaking melodies.

He was invited to the funeral, but he had refused to come. Nothing of importance would be buried. Wanyin’s spirit remained at the lake, Xichen knew that even if nothing answered his inquiry. So he was here as well, playing the tune to convey his feelings to the lingering spirit, even if it was only a wish and nothing stayed behind. 

When he was told about the funeral he had asked if Wei Wuxian and his husband planned to come. He missed his brother and he knew questions would be asked. But the second in command shook his head, telling Xichen only family and sect were invited. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to be pleased knowing Yunmeng Jiang counted him among Wanyin’s family or pained that they didn’t do the same for Yilling Patriarch. 

His songs turned from final goodbye to inquiry without him even realizing. His brother’s beloved had come back to him after he waited long enough, after he begged for it for years, so maybe if Xichen did the same…

Let him go, said the voices. He deserves to be free.

His eyes shined with unshed tears under the powerful sun. He longed all of a sudden to return to the Lotus Pier, to join the funeral and mourn properly, at least for a bit. A pained sob escaped him because it was just so hard to stay standing when there was nothing left for him to continue living for. He wanted to go home, back to seclusion, counting the cracks in his bed frame and tending to his garden. It had been a month since he was last there, since he last saw his brother and his uncle. 

He heard a splash on his left and he looked down in the water to see his dragon’s snout peeking from the lake. He snorted at the sight, shaking his head at the ridiculous situation. The dragon projectiled himself out of the lake and then back in, jumping over the boat like a gigantic fish and soaking Lan Xichen with water. He merely laughed at that, puting Liebing away to hang along Shuoyue and rising up to watch the dragon swim.

He learned that the beast loved water and he took him out to the lake every day. Watching the dragon dance under the surface was amazing - he moved like a snake, slithering through the water with gentle and yet powerful movements. He jumped out of the water again to roll in a ball and then stretch in the air, almost like floating, only to fall back down and disappear under the lotus flowers.

He started moving in circles, rocking Xichen’s boat with the waves. 

“Ready to go out?” asked Xichen. He had a feeling the dragon understood more and more - now he obeyed almost any command and already tried to show Xichen what he wanted. He thought the dragon would swim to the boat and press his snout against it in a clear sign he wanted to leave, but that didn’t happen. Instead, the mythical being reappeared above the water in another jump.

Xichen smiled and sat down in the boat to keep his balance upon the splash. But there was no sound of the dragon falling back into the water and Xichen’s mouth fell open because the purple beast was floating. It moved above him, swimming across the air as elegantly as below a lake’s surface. Then, like flipping the switch, the dragon went crazy, making loops and barrel rolls and bolting all the way up to the clouds only to come crashing down, stopping so close to the water that the wind almost capsized Xichen’s boat. 

“You …” managed to say the cultivator before the dragon darted away again, this time towards the Lotus Pier on the horizon, nearly hitting the buildings before turning and flying back. 

Of course, the dragons in legends were always able to fly. But they were usually described to move like clouds, slowly and lazily, and not like the purple dragon - Xichen’s dragon - who moved like lightning, whizzing across the sky. It was probably because he had been confined to the ground for a month that the dragon went completely insane with happiness, beelining around Xichen and shattering the nearby clouds. 

“Ah,” said Xichen, no longer looking at the sky but down at his lap, at his calloused hands. “You can leave now.”

But before he could even fall back into self pity, a flow of warm air puffed into his face. He lifted his head and his dragon was floating right before him, his head as close as it was when they first met. 

“Hello,” said Xichen simply and the dragon huffed in answer. He moved even closer, rubbing his head against Xichen’s chest. He minded his horns, tilting his neck just right to not injure the cultivator. Xichen’s heart warmed at the sight and he lifted his hands, hugging the beast.

“I don’t want you to leave,” he sobbed, holding on like he’d die if he let go. “Don’t you want to stay with me?”

The dragon couldn’t answer, but he made a weird, deliberate gesture, clearly wanting something. He lifted Xichen in the air by raising his head and then lowered him back on the boat only to lift him right up again. Xichen was confused - what could the dragon possibly want to tell him? When he finally realized it, his eyes went wide in surprise. 

“You want me to …” he trailed off, grabbing the dragon’s horns and the beast made a happy sound. “Okay, just … give me a moment.”

He lifted himself up and turned, his body pressed against the dragon’s neck and his hands firmly on the horns, the mane tickling his chin. The dragon made another happy sound and then he rose up in the air, the lake disappearing in seconds.

He went slower and lower than before, mindful of the passenger, but Xichen barely noticed because he felt amazing. It was nothing like flying on a sword. They moved much faster, but it felt just right with how the ground appeared and disappeared below them. His hair was blowing in the wind and he was sure he would look like he was hit by lighting upon landing, but he didn’t care. He buried his face in the mane, closing the eyes and letting himself enjoy the sensation. Slowly he felt the air turn cold and he shivered. After spending a month in a hot Yunmeng summer, he was not accustomed to Gosu's cold … Wait, Gosu?!

He quickly lifted his head only to see his homeland under his dragon, his sect’s buildings coming into view.

“Barrier!” he screamed. “There is a barrier!”

But the dragon either didn’t hear him or he simply did not react to the words, because he still flew forward with a dashing speed and Xichen could do nothing but hold on tighter and pray. He didn’t have his token on him and even if he did, it would probably do the dragon no good.

But the dragon was a mythical beast for a reason - the moment he came into contact with the barrier, the barrier shattered and Xichen gapped at the view of the sky raining down. The dragon appeared unaffected, simply landing before the Hanshi. Xichen liked to think he then dismounted with elegance - in truth he fell down like a block of ice. 

“I … I …” he tried, the dragon listening to him, but when it became clear Xichen had nothing clever to say, the purple beast waddled to the larch in Xichen’s garden, wrapped himself around the tree multiple times and went to sleep.

Shouts and rushed steps broke the silence, elders and disciples with Lan Qiren in front almost ran down the path to Hanshi, their swords drawn. Almost. It was the closest allowed thing to running.

Xichen’s eyes moved from the dragon, who only occasionally twitched his ears in irritation at the noise, to the horde on the way to them and then back. The barrier continued to rain down around him in the form of colorful sparkles.

“Um,” he said. “I’m home?”

Chapter Text

“He is not dangerous, uncle!” said Xichen desperately. His uncle had pointed a sword at the dragon upon his arrival, just as expected, but then he paled and dropped to his knees, his head pressed against the ground. The elders followed right after and then even the confused disciples. Lan Xichen was left standing before rows of kowtowing Lans and he started developing a headache.

“I know he isn’t, Xichen,” said Lan Qiren calmly, his head lifting just slightly above the ground. “But he is a mythical beast. He should be treated with respect.”

He got up and walked past his nephew, who’s hair was still dishevelled like he had just flown through a thunderstorm, his ribbon slightly sideways.

“Wait …” Xichen turned, his hand half reaching out for his uncle but stopping in between. His uncle’s sword stayed on the ground where he had kneeled, but Xichen still worried. The dragon had broken the barrier, after all, and could easily be mistaken for a threat. The beast untangled itself from the larch at the sight of a stranger approaching, and he was now floating just a little above the ground uncertainty. 

“Does he have a name?” asked Lan Qiren without looking back.

“I don’t know,” answered Xichen, following his uncle closely in case he was needed. “It felt wrong to just give him one, so he remained known only as the dragon.”

It wasn't like there was another around anyway. 

“He is magnificent,” sighed his uncle and Xichen smiled, feeling pride at his dragon being praised.

“He is,” he easily agreed. The dragon’s scales were no longer wet, but they still shone like jewels under the sun, his mane floating in the wind like liquid silver. He slowly blinked, closing his gray eyes for a long moment until opening them again and focusing solely on Lan Qiren. Xichen expected his uncle to try and pet the dragon with how close he’d gotten, and he opened his mouth in warning. The dragon didn’t like to be touched by strangers … Or even worse, if you showed him aggression, he snapped and attacked. Yunmeng Jiang’s second in command - or was it sect leader now - knew that well. 

But his uncle surprised both of them.

Instead of touching the dragon, he bowed low.

“I welcome you to Cloud Recess, mighty dragon, in the name of Gosu Lan,” he said, his eyes shining with adoration. Only then did the elders and disciples rise from their knees. 

“I suppose this is why you were delayed in Lotus Pier and had to stay for an entire month?” asked Lan Qiren, his gaze never leaving the dragon. “Do we prepare a feast? What does he eat?”

“Nothing,” Xichen chose to answer the last question. “We couldn’t make him eat anything.”

“Ah, of course,” nodded Qiren. “A spiritual beast has no use for mortal food.”

He never tried to reach out and touch. Xichen was grateful for that - he wasn’t sure how the dragon would react. Instead, his uncle bowed again, apologizing to the dragon for waking him from his slumber. And to Xichen’s surprise, the dragon bowed back before rolling into a hoop under the larch and falling asleep like he didn’t have half of a sect staring at him. 

“Well, that is settled,” determined his uncle as if a dragon dropping from the sky was a normal occurrence. He lifted his sword, storing it away, and then he pointed at the disciples and elders still gapping in surprise. “I want every last one of you fixing the barrier. I know it was decades since it was completely broken like that and new generations have little knowledge about it’s repairs, but I’m sure you can figure it out.”

He then turned to Xichen and gestured towards Hanshi.

“Some tea and an explanation would be welcome,” he said, not taking a no as an answer.

“Of course, please follow me,” replied Lan Xichen sheepishly, still unable to deny his uncle anything. He knew the explanation meant he would have to describe Wanyin’s death and his funeral and he hated the thought, but his uncle needed to know.

They made it all the way to the door.

“Oh my god, Lan Zhan, come look! It’s a dragon!” 

And Xichen’s headache came back with full force. He and his uncle shared a startled look. They turned as one, spotting a cultivator in black and red hunching next to the resting beast. Then he grabbed a stick.

“Young master Wei, please …”

“Wei Wuxian!”

Tap.

Wei Wuxian, for some damn reason, poked the dragon with a stick.

The dragon opened one of his eyes, the gray orb unfocused for a moment and then looked at Wei Wuxian with something akin to disbelief. 

“Oh, it’s awake,” said the demonic cultivator and Xichen thought everything would turn out okay. And then Wei Wuxian lifted the stick and poked the dragon again.

Tap.

The dragon’s reaction was instantaneous. He snapped forwards, his teeth snapping closed where Wei Wuxian’s hand was supposed to be, but it grabbed nothing but air since Wangji had already pulled his lover away. He attacked with Bichen even when Xichen shouted at him not to, desperately running towards them and ignoring half a dozen rules. 

“Wangji!” Lan Qiren’s shout echoed across the Cloud Recess. 

The sword hit the dragon’s snout, leaving a red trail where it cut through the scales. Even through the horror Xichen felt he knew the wound wasn’t deep, as not even Bichen could seriously harm the dragon. 

Xichen threw himself between his brother and the dragon, reaching for the dragon’s head to calm him. The beast stopped trashing and instead let Xichen touch him, letting out a low whine. He gently shushed the dragon and used his own spiritual energy to close the wound, but he couldn’t do anything about the damaged scales. The dragon now had a scar over his snout and Xichen felt terrible about it, tracing it with his fingers.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered heartbrokenly. He turned to check on his brother, his smile long gone and he barely held back his anger seeing that Bichen still shined outside it’s scabbard. Wangji went too far this time, readily attacking a sacred beast to protect that reckless husband of his.

“Whoa,” let out Wei Wuxian, looking completely unapologetic. “Attacking over a little poke!”

“Both of you,” interrupted Lan Qiren, his eyes on the couple and his voice colder than the Cold Spring. “Inside!”

He pointed at Hanshi. Xichen was sure if Wei Wuxian or Wangji were to disobey, Qiren was ready to punish them harder than ever before. They apparently realized the same thing as they entered Xichen’s home without complaint. Lan Qiren took another good look at the dragon, curled behind Xichen.

“Take as long as you need,” he said and followed his nephew and his nephew’s husband into Hanshi.

Lan Xichen sighed and turned around to look at his dragon. He was twisted into a roll, looking at Xichen with his eyes wide. That was when Xichen realized the dragon wasn’t afraid, no - he looked like he had done something wrong and he wasn’t sure what.

“Oh sweetie, no,” whispered Xichen, hugging the dragon’s head and pressing their foreheads together. “You’ve done nothing wrong. It’s okay.”

He pressed his lips against the scar and he more felt than saw the dragon close his eyes and purr. 

“Did I kiss it better?” he said, laughter in his voice. In a moment of inspiration, he took off his ribbon and wrapped it around the dark purple horn. There were only two beings he was ever prepared to give his forehead ribbon to, and both were gone. The dragon was all he had left, and he planned to cherish it for as long as he lived. 

“Rest,” he told the dragon, placing his head on the ground with all the gentleness he could muster. “And thank you. For being here.”

He took one last look at his dragon, who kept his eyes closed and puffed out warm air, and left towards Hanshi with a smile on his face. A smile that died the moment he entered.

Wangji had his arms protectively wrapped around Wei Wuxian who sat on his lap, looking at least a bit sheepish. Qiren was sitting as far away as possible, obviously fuming in anger. The three looked shocked at the absence of his ribbon, but they stayed quiet. None of them had any intention of drinking tea, that much was clear, so Xichen only sighed again and sat down next to his uncle. 

“You will never do that again, Wangji,” he said calmly. His brother’s eyes widened and Xichen could read betrayal on his face. His younger brother expected him to back his actions. How ridiculous. “The dragon is a sacred mythical beast. He could bring fortune to Cloud Recess or he could plunge it into a calamity.”

“He attacked Wei Ying,” answered Wangji defensively, like that was enough of an apology.

“Young master Wei provoked it,” said Xichen, refusing to back down. “Maybe he should bear the consequences of his actions, at least this once.”

Wei Wuxian laughed nervously, facing Xichen’s displeasure for the first time. 

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I only poked it, that's all. I don’t see …”

“Enough.”

Years had passed since they were schooled by Lan Qiren, and yet only one word in that tone made all three shut up and strengthen their backs.

“We will discuss your punishment later, Wangji, Wei Wuxian, as there are more pressing matters at hand.”

He looked at Xichen, his eyebrows furrowed and his hand stroked his beard persistently. 

“Where did this dragon come from? Why was it in Lotus Pier? Why were you there? And why did I get a letter this morning, announcing a new sect leader in Yunmeng Jiang?”

Wei Wuxian looked like he was about to comment on that, so Xichen lifted his hand to stop him.

“I don’t know where the dragon came from,” he said. “I don’t know why he was in Lotus Pier. But I do know I just came from a funeral … of sect leader Jiang, Jiang Wanyin.”

The room plunged into a tense silence. Lan Qiren and Wangji looked shocked, paling and opening their mouths a few times as if trying to say something.

“A tragedy,” finally said Qiren, bowing his head.

“A tragedy?!” hissed Wei Wuxian, looking like he was about to lose it. “How did he die? Why did they not call for me, I wasn’t even invited to the funeral … I was his brother!”

“Were you?” asked Xichen quietly. He wasn’t trying to argue, he was genuinely curious. “What kind of sibling doesn’t notice his brother was dead for a month?”

Wei Wuxian stayed still for a moment, his face twisting with guilt. He probably hasn't even thought about Jiang Cheng while traveling and having fun with his husband. But then he discarded the guilt like always, choosing to feel angry instead.

“Was that really my fault? I always assumed I wasn’t welcome back in Lotus Pier,” he said, his fingers clenching into fists. Wangji reached out to calm him and Wei Wuxian let him, melting into the embrace.

“I was told there was a letter,” said Lan Xichen, not being able to let it go as easily. “A letter from Yunmeng Jiang, asking for your help. It was sent just a day after I arrived at Lotus Pier.”

Wei Wuxian looked confused. Xichen recognized that expression, that look in his eyes - he never got the letter. So Xichen was finally able to let it go, after asking himself about it ever since Wanyin’s right hand man told him he had sent it. Or he would be, if there wasn’t … was that a flicker of guilt on Wangji’s face?

“Wangji,” said Xichen sternly, using his big brother voice. “What happened to the letter?”

“I …” Wangji’s face turned stubborn like it always did when he was sure he was in the right. “It sounded like a trap. For Wei Ying.”

“An official plea for help was a trap?!”

“That man,” Wangji stopped, choosing to change his tone to a less hostile one since he was now speaking of the dead, “had tried to hurt Wei Ying before.”

“But this wasn’t your choice to make!” Wei Wuxian jumped from Wangji’s lap, looking desperate. The one to blame for his pain was no other than his beloved husband, and Xichen saw him waver. He would forgive him, he knew that. Wanyin wasn’t even remotely important enough for him not to. 

“Enough.”

Again, silence befell the hut. Lan Qiren was pressing two fingers against his forehead, his face locked in an ugly frown. 

“Sect leader Lan and I have important things to discuss,” he said, an unforgivable look in his eyes. “Wangji, make sure you and your husband stay in Cloud Recess, awaiting punishment.”

Wei Wuxian looked like he had more to say, but Wangji bowed and dragged him away. Xichen let out a breath of relief the moment they left, sagging like an empty sack. He never wanted to argue with his brother, but just thinking about how hard it had been those first few days, hoping beyond all hope for Wanyin’s return while trying to keep the dragon alive, and all that because his brother was being petty . He couldn’t even call him overprotective, not when Wangji knew well Xichen was in Lotus Pier and that sect leader Jiang wouldn’t ever try to hurt Wei Wuxian when Xichen was there. He couldn’t help but think this might be his fault, for not noticing how hostile Wangji acted and how hateful he had turned his relationship with Wanyin.

“Xichen, are you okay?” asked his uncle, grabbing his shoulder to show his support.

Xichen wavered, his hands wrapped around his body. He wanted to say it, but he was too afraid of being judged. Because Lans only love once. Because he was a sect leader and had to provide nice little heirs.

“Xichen?” the hand on his shoulder started drawing circles, grounding him.

“I loved him,” he blurted. “And I didn’t even know .”

His uncle hummed, letting Xichen rest his head on him while trying to keep back the sobs.

“They never even found the body!” he cried and felt Lan Qiren still under him, before starting to comfort the younger man. Xichen knew he was going to be embarrassed the next day, for acting like a small child, for breaking down like that. But he had suffered too much in his life, having to smile and act like he was okay to not worry his family, and for once, he let his emotions show. He wasn’t sure how long he grieved, but when Wei Wuxian knocked and slowly opened the door, ready to bolt away if Lan Qiren still appeared angry, the sun was no longer shining in the sky.

“Uf,” said Wei Wuxian. “How to say this. The dragon isn’t there anymore.”

___________________________

Lan Jinyi and Lan Shizui came back from their night hunt with dark faces and saddened eyes. They had to complete it alone after Jin Ling got an urgent summon - his uncle had died and he was called to attend the funeral. Neither of them could forget how the young sect leader’s heart broke at the message, his face filled with despair. It hunted them in the night, knowing their friend lost the last of his small family. They both agreed they would look for him and make sure he was alright, as soon as Hánguāng-jūn allowed them to. They were prepared to stay by his side for as long as necessary, showing their support while he grieved.

They entered the berrier, the disciples at the door bowing and they bowed in return. There was something off about Cloud Recess, almost like everyone was on edge.

“Do you think something happened?” asked Shizui, observing how the disciples looked over their shoulders. 

Jingyi was just about to answer when he noticed something behind Shizui, his mouth falling open.

“Am I drunk?” he asked carefully, earning a scolding look from his friend.

“Why would you be drunk?” he asked in surprise, turning to see what caught Jinyi’s attention, and his mouth fell open as well, so unusual for the young master Lan.

Something was floating behind them, a huge beast in dark purple and silver tones. It floated by slowly like a cloud, not paying them any attention. It could be nothing else than a dragon, with the way it looked, but why were there bunnies all over it’s back?! 

They were standing up on their back legs, their heads all turned in the same direction, like they were going to some meeting of utmost importance. 

“I think I’m going crazy,” admitted Jinyi when the dragon and his bunny colony left their sight.

Shizui nodded, rubbing his eyes.

“I think father would forgive us if we left to comfort our friend,” he said and Jingyi eagerly agreed.

They turned around and moved as fast as possible without running until they reached the barrier, jumped on their swords and didn’t stop before Cloud Recess was just a dot on the horizon.

___________________________

Xichen had started painting again. He had gathered his old supplies, his brushes, his canvas and his ink. He carried it all to the meadow where his dragon lied, all of his four legs sticking up towards the sky and his belly warming on the sun. He then tried capturing the beautiful creature in a painting.

He failed.

Badly.

He has had no practice for years and it showed, his strokes uncertain and wobbly. Even the simplest outline didn’t turn out good enough, and his attempts to capture the brilliant colors of the scales in the sunlight were disastrous at best. Finally he gave in to his temptations with a sigh, dropping his brush and swiftly jumping over to the dragon, laying down and pressing against the scaled skin. The dragon shifted so his belly pressed against Xichen and he whined to express his request. Xichen smiled and happily obliged, hugging the dragon and combing through his mane to get rid of the knots.

“You’re turning out to be quite spoiled, aren’t you?” he asked laughing when the dragon moved his head to lick Xichen’s fingers. “That tickles.”

The dragon gave him a happy hum, placing one of his legs over the cultivator protectively. He moved his head to Xichen’s, pressing them together. The scar on his snout was only a silver line now, barely visible. They stayed like that for a while, only feeling the sun, and Xichen felt his eyes starting to close. It didn’t matter how well rested he was, some cuddles from his favourite beast and he became sleepy in no time. The dragon wasn’t any better, the gray orbs firmly closed.

Then they flew open and Xichen frowned. There was a butterfly on his arm.

“Oh no,” he whispered. Too late. Dragon’s eyes flashed silver and he was up in a beat, his back twisting like a cat’s. 

“Don’t, please …” began Xichen only to be interrupted by his dragon, jumping up and down and trying to find that very same butterfly somewhere in the meadow. He pushed his snout into the grass, trying to sniff it out. Xichen shook his head, a smile firmly on his face, and left to gather his supplies. He stopped to look at his unfinished painting, looking more akin to a noodle than a dragon. He tore it off and burned it with a fire talisman, not fancying the thought of anyone else seeing the poor mockery of a painting. Then he, in a moment of inspiration, placed another empty frame and began painting again. He went slowly, letting his memory guide his hand. The dragon joined him after a while, quietly sitting by his side. Xichen let him, his strokes gaining strength. When he was done, he let out a breath of relief, his fingers tracing the lines on Wanyin’s face. He avoided the newest ones, knowing well they were not yet dried, and rather opted for the oldest. He touched the hair, imagining it bound by his ribbon. 

The painting was terrible and Xichen was quite sure a child could do better, but he let it dry and then stored it under his clothes. 

“So I remember,” he told the dragon that only looked at him with those semi intelligent eyes. 

He went to get dinner, the dragon trailing behind him and making all of the passing disciples bow with respect. After he ate, the back of his neck constantly tingling with a feeling of being watched, he led the dragon to Hanshi. Wangji and Wei Wuxian were waiting there, the latter smiling widely when he saw the large serpent.

“Babysitting time!” he yelled, jumping on his spot excitedly. The dragon huffed, clearly annoyed, but in recent days he had learned to tolerate the other. But never Wangji. Xichen’s younger brother had to stay at least a few steps away or the beast would attack. Xichen smiled at them, quietly praying to every deity he knew that Wei Wuxian would still be in one piece after he came back.

It was Lan Qiren that had found something interesting in a library just a day after Xichen’s arrival. A scroll on terrible qi deviation, worse than anything Xichen had ever seen before, including the one that killed Nie Mingjue. It was powerful enough to rip a cultivator's soul right out of his body and force it to wander alone forever, the skeleton left to rot. There was only one melody that could help, an incredibly complex and complicated one. But if anyone could pull it off, it was Xichen.

Lan Qiren had told him that it could help the dragon find his way home.

So Xichen practiced every night, until his lungs burned, and then some more. Because he would do anything to help his dragon. Even if that meant he’d leave.

So he practiced again that night, not stopping until the moon was up and the entire Cloud Recess had quieted down. He finally stopped, his fingers trembling, not because he failed, but because he had played it perfectly.

Lan Qiren had also told him to play it to the dragon when he was ready.

But how could he force himself to be ready for something like that? To be ready to let go of the magnificent beast that brought him so much joy? Life was easier when the dragon was around.

Xichen shouldn’t be selfish. The dragon gave and gave, never asking for anything in return. And now it was time for Xichen to help him in turn, to let him go home. Next morning. On the meadow. 

He tried not to cry when he went to sleep that night, burying his head in the cold scales. That definitely shouldn’t feel as comforting as it did. He overslept, waking up when the sun was already well on it’s way and the dragon licked at the tear tracks on his cheeks. Almost like his body had listened to his wish - he didn’t want to wake up at all.

“I’m fine,” he lied, breaking the rules. He skipped breakfast, seeing no purpose in prolonging the inevitable any longer. He led the dragon to the meadow, making him lie down while he prepared himself. He brought Liebing to his lips, talking one last look at his dragon. The dragon started purring at the act since he truly loved Xichen’s playing. Then Xichen closed his eyes, knowing he wont be able to let go if he looked any longer. 

Slowly, the melody filled the air around them. It was fused with spiritual energy, Xichen giving it all he had. He hoped, at the beginning, that his uncle was wrong and nothing would happen. But he felt it working, he felt it start to take effect and he almost lost track. He kept on going. 

Finally, he finished. Liebing fell from his hands onto his lap and he sat there, in silence. He knew the dragon was gone - it felt like a huge empty space in front of him.

He refused to open his eyes and look.

He only cried quietly, both tears of happiness and tears of sadness. His dragon was gone.

He startled, badly, when a hand touched his face. He flinched away and opened his eyes, the light blinding him.

And then he saw Wanyin's face. He was right before him, standing on his knees and one arm, the other still reaching out. But he had horns, and some scales, and white markings trailing down his body ...

Xichen blushed fiercely when he realized Wanyin was completely naked, the only piece of clothing he wore was Xichen's white ribbon, tied around his horn. 

"Don't cry," said Wanyin in his beautiful, beautiful voice, once again caressing Xichen's cheeks and wiping the tears with his fingertips. 

If this was a dream, Xichen refused to wake up.

Chapter Text

Ah, a dream. Such a wonderful dream too. Wanyin was still tracing the tear trails and Xichen lifted his hand to place it over Wanyin’s, pressing the cold palm against his face. He moved it to his lips and kissed it gently, his eyes closing and his heart aching.

“Wanyin …” he whispered longingly, pulling the other closer and hugging him, his head resting on Wanyin’s shoulder. “It’s okay now that you are here …”

His hands roamed across the naked skin of Wanyin’s back, feeling the occasional cold inconsistency of the scales. If this wasn’t a dream, he’d be terribly embarrassed and excited, but now he simply decided to savor as much as possible before waking up. He sniffed, almost crushing Wanyin in his hands, when he felt the other respond to the hug. His eyes remained firmly closed however, as that was one line he would not cross. It was mortifying enough to know his imagination painted Wanyin naked.

“Hm,” said Wanyin, sounding like he was still getting accustomed to the ability to talk. “Who is Wanyin?”

Okay. Not a dream.

Xichen’s eyes snapped open and he flinched away from the being in front of him like he’d been burned. The eyes that were staring back at him were undoubtedly the dragon’s - had he transformed into a form Xichen desired? The horns and scales spoke in favor of that theory. He scared the being when he had moved away earlier, and the dragon in Wanyin’s form hunched in on himself like he was afraid of getting hit. 

“I’m sorry,” hurriedly said Xichen, thumbling with his clothes and removing one of the layers. He kneeled next to the dragon and covered him. “Please, don’t be afraid.”

He moved away to give the humanoid dragon some space, worried that his presence could be overbearing. The gray eyes followed him, but there was no fear in them, only careful interest. He moved after Xichen, the loose clothes barely covering anything. He pressed his head against Xichen’s chest, nuzzling into it like he used to do as a serpent. And he was still so mindful of his horns that Xichen couldn’t help himself, he wrapped his arms around him again, careful like the being was made of glass. The dragon started to hum and Xichen realized with a chuckle that he was purring.

“What’s your name?” he asked, starting with a simple question.

The dragon frowned, moving away a bit and Xichen let him go easily. He was careful to not make him feel caged. 

“I don’t remember,” he said, deep in thought. He tilted his head and let out a long sigh. “I really don’t remember.”

“It’s alright,” Xichen assured him immediately before the dragon could feel bad, his fingers combing through the dragon’s hair like he used to do with his mane. He felt a little sick knowing he was touching somebody who merely looked like Wanyin and not Wanyin himself, but it was important to make the dragon comfortable in his new form. Like Xichen’s uncle said, the dragon was to be respected regardless of Xichen’s personal feelings. 

“What do you remember?” he asked, untangling a knot absentmindedly.

“It was dark,” answered the dragon. “I was in pain. Everything hurt.”

Xichen’s eyes widened and he let go of the silky hair to focus on the words.

“I was being chased and I fought back, I think. It was more like … an instinct?”

“Who did you fight against?” asked Xichen, his hands on his legs and his fingers gripping them so hard they turned white. “Who was it?”

“It was dark,” the dragon shook his head and Xichen bit back his frustration. “But …”

“But?”

“There were many,” answered the dragon, his words coming slow like he had a hard time remembering. “They yelled, but I could not understand. I hid.”

And then Xichen came, he played his songs, he put the dragon to sleep …

“And before?” Xichen asked, suddenly breathless. “Before you were hurting?”

The dragon stared at him, his face unreadable. 

“Nothing,” he whispered, his eyes became downcast after Xichen’s face showed such obvious disappointment. “I don’t remember anything from before.”

Xichen hummed and searched for Liebing, reaching out to pick it up after spotting the flute where he dropped it earlier in his haste to get the dragon covered. He was about to store it away, when a hand grabbed his own.

“Wanyin?” he asked, out of habit, and then bit his tongue. “I’m sorry, I’m still ...”

“Will you play for me?” the dragon asked, and his voice sounded so wrong to Xichen, so not like Wanyin. “I liked the song from earlier.”

“Of course,” answered Xichen, brushing the lost grass from his lap and straightening his back. He lifted his white instrument and slowly placed it below his lips. He played again, but this time his eyes stayed open. For a while there was no change, and Xichen asked himself what he was even expecting. For the dragon to suddenly lose the horns and act like Wanyin? What a foolish hope.

Then, something happened, and Xichen willed himself not to play any faster in the desire to see what would happen. The dragon was now doubled over and his hands were clenching his head. He was rocking himself up and down. And finally, he let out a pained moan. 

Xichen immediately stopped, storing Liebing away and reaching out in one single movement.

“I am so sorry,” he apologized, unsure of what to do. “I didn’t think it could hurt you. I didn’t think … it was hurting you.”

The dragon looked up and Xichen knew something was wrong. His eyes became clouded and worried, his face tight in discomfort. It was shocking, almost like looking at an entirely different being. The dragon had looked like a curious pup earlier, like a personification of his big, gentle serpent form. Now the dragon looked like a beaten, scared child.

“Hey …” he whispered softly, trying not to startle the dragon. He failed, the dragon flinched away and then rushed to his feet. He bowed politely, his hands trembling.

“I apologize,” he said, his head bowed low. That woke Xichen up from his daze and he rose to his feet, lifting the dragon from his bow. He wasn’t able to part his hands and so they stayed still in an awkward silence.

“For what?” he asked and the dragon’s fingers went white with the force he was using to keep them together. 

“I should leave right now,” the dragon said and Xichen’s heart hurt at the thought. “I have stayed away from my home for too long. I’m sure they are searching for me. If I don’t come back … I will be punished.”

He lowered his head like he was embarrassed by the possibility. He reminded him of Wanyin - always thinking he deserved the punishment and that it was just. He saw the dragon’s cheeks color when Xichen didn’t answer for a while. He must have thought Xichen agreed with the punishment.

“I’m sure they only miss you,” he said, his hand petting the dragon’s hair and he loved how the being’s reflex was to push his head against his palm. “I will help you get home, okay? But we should talk to my uncle first. He will probably know it better.”

After all, Xichen had no idea where dragons lived or where Wanyin’s look alike had come from. He carefully fixed the dragon’s clothes while the other started at him, startled. His eyes were wide like a deer’s and his shoulders were hunched like he was trying to make himself smaller. 

“I don’t know what’s happening to me,” he whispered, tears gathering in his eyes. He let out a quiet sob, clearly trying to hold it in and Xichen’s heart ached for the other. “I’m scared.”

He had never seen Wanyin so vulnerable and he had to remind himself it wasn’t his beloved that was crying. He simply had to comfort the dragon, so he pressed him against his chest, feeling him stiffen. 

“I will go and get my uncle,” he told the dragon, his lips right above the other’s ears. “Can you wait here for a bit?”

He felt a nod against his chest and took it as a confirmation. He made the other sit down since crying made him unbalanced. He felt conflicted about leaving the dragon alone in his state, but he had no other choice. Everyone in Cloud Recess knew Wanyin’s face and they’d misunderstood. 

“I will be right back,” he promised before going to get his uncle. He expected Lan Qiren to object or question him first, but his face had to convey all of his distress and worries, because his uncle got up, dropped the scroll he was reading and said: “Lead the way.”

They rushed back to the meadow side by side, disciples jumping out of their way. Xichen couldn’t help but think of all the terrible scenarios - what if the dragon is gone by the time they come back? What if he gets hurt, if he was found by another disciple or worse, Wei Wuxian, while being so vulnerable? He felt faint with relief when they finally reached the spot where he had left the dragon and the being was still there, sitting like Xichen had left him. He looked at them with fearful eyes and Lan Qiren gasped.

“Jiang Wanyin?” he asked hesitantly and Xichen shook his head before the dragon could even respond.

“It’s not him,” he said, his voice shaking. Oh, how he wished it was him. “It’s the dragon. He transformed after I played the song.”

Lan Qiren hummed, stroking his beard.

“Jiang Cheng?” he asked and Xichen looked at his uncle in disbelief only to hear a startled sound.

“Yes?” asked the dragon and Xichen’s world came crashing down.

“What,” he let out, his uncle’s hand on his shoulder the only thing holding him from grabbing Wanyin - because it was Wanyin, it was , even if he couldn’t remember, it was Wanyin …

“Play the song again,” his uncle said with urgency in his voice. “Play it till the end. He needs to hear it.”

“It will hurt him,” objected Xichen, his eyes glued to Wanyin’s face. He’d rather have Jiang Cheng with no memories than cause his beloved even more pain. The other stared back, flinching slightly at the word “hurt”. He had to be somewhere between eight and ten and yet he seemed to know pain very well. He said they would punish him. How could they?

“Xichen, you must!” insisted his uncle. “Do you think he’s human now? Play or you will lose him forever!”

Xichen ignored him. He stepped forward and sat next to Jiang Cheng. He placed his hand on the other’s, smiling a radiant smile to calm him.

“If I play for you, it will hurt,” he said, carefully observing the other’s reactions. “And if I’m being honest, I’m not sure you will feel better afterwards.”

Wanyin had had a terrible life, with tragedies occurring left and right. He was traumatized and in pain, hiding it behind a wall of anger. Xichen wouldn’t wish that on anyone.

“I … I don’t feel right,” admitted Jiang Cheng and Xichen understood. He was a child in an adult body, one with dragon traits at that. “I didn’t feel right as a dragon either. Like I was nothing but an animal, acting on instinct. But I …”

He blushed and Xichen found him so adorable he barely kept his hands away.

“I like your music!” 

Xichen’s smile widened and he couldn’t hold himself back, he pulled Jiang Cheng into his lap and wrapped his hands around the other’s waist. He expected the child in Wanyin to resist or tense up, but he melted into the embrace instead. He clearly wasn’t spoiled nearly enough.

“Ehem,” said Lan Qiren, but Xichen ignored him.

“I will play you a song,” he said, his chin on Jiang Cheng’s shoulder. “And it will hurt. But I’m sure you are brave enough to handle it.”

The other nodded wildly and Xichen held back a sigh. So eager to prove he was brave …

He took out Liebing and started playing, his arms under Jiang Cheng’s and his head next to the other’s. It didn’t take long for Jiang Cheng to start squirming. He was clearly in pain, but he braved on, his fingers tearing at the clothes Xichen had lent him. He started letting out pained huffs that became moans and then screams and yet Xichen kept on playing, his face twisting in horror at his own actions. It hurt his heart and soul to hear Wanyin scream like that. 

He was almost finished when Jiang Cheng stopped struggling and half collapsed in Xichen’s embrace. Xichen looked at his uncle, whose face was equally horrified. Uncle gestured Xichen to keep on playing, and so he did, until the end. 

He dropped Liebing like it was on fire the moment the last note was played. He wiped away the tears he felt on Jiang Cheng’s face, turning his head so he could look at him. They were close enough that Xichen needed only a small nudge and they would be kissing.

“Wanyin?” he whispered, his voice heavy with horror and hope.

The gray eyes slowly blinked open.

They still looked like the dragon's, way too deep and too easy to be lost in. That was no surprise given the horns were still on his head and markings and scales still trailed down his face under Xichen’s upper robes. 

Then, the eyes blinked some more and suddenly opened wide, the face twisting in surprise and then into a scowl. He ripped himself from Xichen’s arms and moved at least a few steps away before pointing at Xichen in anger.

“Xichen!” he yelled, blushing and looking furious at the same time. “What was I even doing in your … so shameless!”

He seemed to remember everything that had happened over the last month as he started blushing and then pailing and then blushing and then pailing again. 

“I-I …” he stuttered, his entire body shaking. “I whined ! A lot! We slept together!”

“Alright, I’m out of here,” said Lan Qiren, turned on the spot and disappeared.

Xichen barely noticed, he was so completely absorbed in Wanyin’s reactions. It worried him how quickly embarrassment turned into a dark expression and how the other suddenly found the ground so interesting. He raised his hands and bowed, much like his younger self had only moments before, and with just as much expectation of a punishment.

“Wanyin …” breathed Xichen, moving closer. 

“I’m sorry,” he got interrupted and he smiled at the familiar words.

“There is nothing you have to be sorry for,” he said, standing next to Wanyin and waiting until he looked up at him. 

“But I am here,” whispered Wanyin and Xichen wanted to tell him it was the best thing that had ever happened to him - getting his beloved back. But the other did not know yet, did he? Xichen had to tell him or Wanyin would never figure it out with his insecurity.

“You said you never wanted to see me again,” said Wanyin bitterly and a drop of blood dripped down his lips where he bit them. “I shifted so you wouldn’t have to look at me anymore, ever again. And I failed even at that. You must be so disappointed that  the dragon was nothing more special than me …”

Xichen couldn’t take it anymore, he surged forward and kissed Jiang Wanyin, not letting him utter one more word because they broke Xichen’s heart. He wished he could go back in time to the day of the argument and punch himself in the face, but all he could do was now comfort Wanyin and tell him how much he cared. 

He tasted blood and Wanyin was stiff as a board, but Xichen didn’t care, reaching out and pressing the other even closer because he couldn’t bear for there to be any distance left between them. Wanyin shifted and Xichen knew precisely what that meant, how desperate the other had to be. The sword in the dragon had to have been from before, so Wanyin had even stabbed himself, making sure never to return ashore even if the shifting didn’t work. It made Xichen cry and he sobbed into Wanyin’s lips.

“Please, please, please,” he begged and moved his head slightly, his cheek pressed against Wanyin’s. “Never leave me again. Please.”

“Xichen,” whispered Jiang Wanyin, his eyes open wide. “What are you saying?”

“I am saying I love you,” Xichen said, catching Wanyin’s hand when he moved away, not letting him go too far. He pressed a kiss on the palm, feeling the colder skin as a reminder he was in fact touching a dragon. “I do. And I should have realized it long ago.”

Wanyin frowned and looked away, his free hands touching the ribbon still tied to his horn. 

“You love the dragon,” he huffed and Xichen’s face lit up with a brilliant smile.

“Don’t be jealous of yourself, Wanyin,” he laughed. “I love you as a dragon and I love you as a human even more. I love you , Jiang Wanyin.”

The way Wanyin blushed was absolutely adorable. 

“I see,” he managed, so surprised somebody could love him for who he was that he didn’t know what to say. He was too baffled by the events to even properly respond. “Then, what now?”

“Now,” said Xichen and gripped Wanyin’s hand tighter, intertwining their fingers. “We go and tell the world you’re alive.”

___________________________

Great plan, telling everyone. Flawless. But why do they have to start with Lan Qiren?

Jiang Cheng was squirming under the elder’s heavy gaze, his only support Xichen’s hand still holding his own. He remembered most of the things he had done and seen as a dragon, but the words humans said were nothing but gibberish to the dragon and so were forever lost from his memory. He remembered Xichen crying a lot and his heart ached knowing he had caused it. He insisted the other take his ribbon back and he flinched at the heartbroken look Xichen gave him. But this was Lan Qiren and they both needed to look presentable, so he argued he should change to another set of clothes and another ribbon, Xichen once again wearing his main one.

They decided to meet in the library and Jiang Cheng felt nostalgic towards the place. He was sitting next to Xichen, his presence a welcome surprise. He wasn’t sure if the other was serious when he had begged him to stay. He wished he was, but he was hurt before and now he didn’t know what to believe. In the end, he still decided to trust Xichen’s words … and actions. He smiled slightly remembering the kiss.

Lan Qiren was nothing but polite towards Jiang Cheng when he was a dragon, and even before. He also came up with the solution to Jiang Cheng’s condition, as Xichen told him. And yet!

The stern look the elder had reminded Jiang Cheng so much of his school days he wished Wei Wuxian would show up and take the heated gaze. Ah, speak of the devil …

“Jiang Cheng!!” Wei Wuxian barged in and threw himself at Jiang Cheng, hugging him so tightly he was struggling to breathe. He felt Xichen squeeze his hand - sect leader Lan would simply sit there and do nothing unless Jiang Cheng wished for it. He trusted the younger one could handle the situation.

“Don’t you go and die on me!” sobbed his adopted brother, pressing his head into Jiang Cheng’s neck and making him flinch uncomfortably as he wasn’t used to being touched. It was okay only … only if it was Xichen. “You can only eat soup from now on! Promise me!”

Jiang Cheng furrowed his eyebrows and looked at Xichen whose ears were colored red. 

“It was so terrible, believing you had died because you choked on food,” he nodded and Jiang Cheng gapped.

“I DID NOT …”

“Such a tragedy,” agreed Lan Qiren, nodding his head. “I will instruct the kitchens to only prepare soup for Jiang Wanyin.”

“You …”

Jiang Cheng didn’t know what to do, his eyes bolting from his nodding brother, who looked satisfied knowing he had condemned Jiang Cheng to a life of soup, to his friend? lover?, who was avoiding his gaze and still blushing profusely, and finally to the satisfied elder that sipped his tea. 

“What the fuck,” he said. It was forbidden, he knew, but even Lan Qiren appeared to turn a blind eye. Only …

“Swearing is forbidden in Cloud Recess.”

Jiang Cheng felt Wei Wuxian stiffen and he looked up. Lan Wangji had entered, his face hostile. Jiang Cheng felt his patience snap. There had never been much of it, after all.

“So is alcohol, and Wei Wuxian reeked of it every night.”

Dragons have an excellent sense of smell. 

Wei Wuxian laughed nervously, trying to brush it off. Lan Wangji appeared unfazed.

“Horns,” he said.

“Horns, Lan Zhan? What do you mean ho- wow, Jiang Cheng, you have horns!”

Wei Wuxian only then noticed anything unusual, immediately touching every dragon trait Jiang Cheng showed. He gripped the horns and dragged his fingers along the markings and the scales. Jiang Cheng shifted uncomfortably, but before he could complain, Wei Wuxian was pushed away and Jiang Cheng was leaning on Xichen’s chest, Xichen’s arms around him possessively.

“Young master Wei,” he said calmly. “Jiang Wanyin is still a little disoriented. Give him some space.”

His words were ironic considering how little space he was currently giving Jiang Cheng. Not that Jiang Cheng minded.

Wei Wuxian breathed in a long breath.

“You are a dragon!” he exclaimed excitedly. “Jiang Cheng, that’s so cool!”

“Yes,” whispered Jiang Cheng, looking at the ground. He was unused to being praised and his cheeks colored. “I shifted into a dragon.”

“You attacked Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji accused him, his eyes narrowing. And Jiang Cheng did feel sorry about that - but who pokes a dragon with a stick? Besides, he was the one hurt in the end and his snout - face, now - hurt every time he remembered. He lifted his hand, tracing the pale scar from his nose to the end of his cheek. Xichen’s eyes followed the motion. There was anger deep in his eyes, but he said nothing.

“Thank you for reminding us, Wangji,” said Lan Qiren, snapping their attention to the elder. Jiang Cheng bit his lips. Of course his actions would be punished. He had attacked his own people, destroyed the barrier, attacked Wei Wuxian …He lowered his eyes and anxiously awaited the verdict. But then … Xichen laughed.

“I am extending your punishment for two more weeks,” said Lan Qiren, looking blissful, happily having some more tea. Lan Wangji looked at him in defiance.

“What is their punishment?” asked Jiang Cheng, looking up to see Xichen’s face. The other offered him a smile that put the sun to shame.

“They aren’t allowed to sleep together,” he whispered. “Uncle can finally rest well.”

Jiang Cheng chuckled darkly. He rose up and placed his lips right on Xichen’s ear, making him shudder.

“Maybe he won’t be able to, anyway,” he whispered so quietly only Xichen could hear him, and the First Jade of Lan blushed a deep red. 

“Brother?” Lan Wangji was looking at Xichen in betrayal and Jiang Cheng slowly untangled himself. 

“I apologize,” he said in Lan Qiren’s direction and the elder merely hummed. But there was something Jiang Cheng still did not understand. “I have no idea how I was able to shift into a dragon, though. Jiangs were supposed to become a lotus flower…”

“I think I might have an idea,” said Lan Qiren, pulling a whole stack of letters out of nowhere, placing it on the table between himself and the other four. All but Lan Wangji leaned forward in curiosity. “My correspondence with Madam Yu. Read it.”

 They did. It took a while because there were a lot of letters and most of them merely hinted at something, but never explained it clearly. It was like Madam Yu was afraid of being discovered, and yet the whole picture slowly began to appear. Both Xichen and Wei Wuxian seemed as engrossed in the words as Jiang Cheng was and even Lan Wangji had leaned over them to see what was going on. Everything made sense now, the lotuses, their parents furry and arguments. Jiang Cheng sighed when he finished, pushing the papers away. He was simply tired of it all.

“I still do not understand,” said Lan Xichen mildly, his eyes moving from one letter to the next. “Why did the lotus Jiang Yanli ate fail? Was the technique faulty after all?”

“I believe her lotus was poisoned,” responded Lan Qiren. Jiang Cheng felt his eyes on him and they both knew Jiang Cheng understood. He always had, in a way. “By Madam Yu or Jiang Fengmian, or maybe both.”

“But why?” Xichen persisted.

“Because she was loved,” said Jiang Cheng and Xichen froze, finally realizing the truth. 

“So?” asked Wei Wuxian, still not getting it. He never had, always refusing to see how flawed  the family he was adopted into was.

“Shifting is like dying, for most,” answered Xichen, his face twisted. Jiang Cheng wanted to spare him from this, from what his life had been so far. But then Xichen looked at him and smiled sadly. “The children of Yu Ziyuan and Jiang Fengmian were bred to be slaughtered. One of them was loved. One was not.”

They sat in silence for a while, Wei Wuxian trying to comprehend what he had just heard, Lan Qiren and Lan Wangji studying the ground and Jiang Cheng drowning in Xichen’s eyes. They were so incredibly warm.

“Fuck them,” said Xichen and everyone else gasped, Lan Qiren dropping his cup, shattering it.

“Xichen!” said Jiang Cheng, scandalized. But he simply had to do something about the other’s sweet smile, so he lashed forward and kissed him deeply, completely disregarding the audience. He had to have moved faster than expected as Xichen looked like he was thunderstruck for a moment, only to respond wildly and push Jiang Cheng down on the table.

“I knew it! I knew it, Lan Zhan!”

“Brother!”

“Xichen! Could you not! In the library! Please!”

___________________________

Xichen was walking up and down the path before the library, his hands on his back and for once, he was not smiling. After all that shenanigans earlier Lan Qiren demanded to speak with Jiang Wanyin alone and Xichen was worried. He shouldn’t be, he knew they will only be separated for the length of a short conversation. But after realizing how Jiang Wanyin’s own parents had treated him, he wished to comfort the other immediately and as much as he could. He knew Wanyin had many scars - his humanoid dragon body only had two, a big one on his stomach and a small one on his cheek - but the emotional ones ran deep. 

Then he remembered how Wanyin had moved to kiss him. Not the kiss itself, even though that was quite unforgettable, but the motion. Wanyin was lightning itself for a split second and Xichen found it hard to breathe at how beautiful that was. Lan Qiren had explained it - Wanyin was no longer a human shifted into a dragon, but a dragon shifted into a human shape. This is why the main traits still remained, just as the colors he usually wore influenced the dragon’s. This is precisely why the elder wanted to talk. Wanyin was no longer a cultivator, he was something more and his life couldn’t simply return to normal.

“Don’t worry, big brother, he will be out soon,” Wei Wuxian tried to comfort him. His brother and his brother’s husband had decided to stay and wait and Xichen offered them a smile. 

“He is incredible, isn’t he,” said Xichen dreamily and winked at Lan Wangji to make sure he understood it was a joke. “Dragon beats grandmaster of demonic cultivation, doesn’t it?”

The joke, of course, went straight over Wangji’s head.

“Wei Ying is better,” his brother denied stubbornly. “He is only a dragon because of Wei Ying’s core.”

“Wangji!”

“Lan Zhan, I took his lotus,” said Wei Wuxian, finally defending his brother. “Granted, I didn’t know it was his, but still I robbed him of his chance.”

“You’re so kind,” said Lan Wangji and Xichen finally snapped.

“Jiang Cheng doesn’t have a core,” he growled and the other two looked at him in surprise. “It was destroyed before he shifted. Fathom that - he didn’t need a lotus or a core to become a dragon!”

The brothers stared at each other in fury, neither backing down. Wei Wuxian was nervously shifting in the middle. Finally, Wangji gave in.

“I’m sorry,” he said and lowered his gaze.

“You will apologize to Jiang Wanyin as well,” said Xichen and his brother nodded.

Good. Now that that was settled, Xichen had to think about his own future. If he was so anxious when Wanyin was only a wall away, how bad would it be when he was in another province? He started walking in a circle, thinking of a way. They could spend some time at Gosu and then some in Yunmeng, since Xichen had already lived there for a month and could still perform his duties. But what if Wanyin disagreed? Then there was no other way but for Xichen to let Jiang Wanyin go and be free. He was a dragon now, and while he did show some feelings towards the Lan’s sect leader, he could surely find someone better. 

Xichen’s fingers clenched into fists. The mere thought of it hurt. Being alone again, in Hanshi with nothing but his shadow to keep him company and chase away his ghosts. He sighed, his shoulders low and his smile fading away.

“You look like somebody died,” said Wanyin, his voice like the sweetest melody to Xichen’s ears. He was on the stairs down from the library and Lan Qiren was leaving, taking a side glance at his gloomy nephew but ultimately decided to let Jiang Wanyin handle that.

“I have this plan,” started Xichen before he changed his mind. “If you stay here for a few days and then I can go to …”

“I can’t,” interrupted Wanyin and Xichen’s heart started hurting. So that was it. “I am needed in Yunmeng Jiang. They don’t even know I’m alive yet.”

“Of course,” he said emotionally, trying not to break down while they had an audience. Wanyin was alive and well and that was all that mattered. All that should matter, certainly.

But then Wanyin looked at him like he was dumb.

“You aren’t coming with me?”

“Oh! But a sect leader’s work …”

He stopped talking and his eyes started to sparkle.

“Wangji?” he said and his brother raised his eyebrows in question. “You’re grounded.”

“Wha-” tried Wei Wuxian but Xichen interrupted him, breaking the roles. He has been so rebellious lately, hasn’t he? Maybe he had finally entered that phase.

“Some responsibility will do you good, both of you,” he said, his smile spreading wide. “I am still your sect leader, after all. You owe me that much, don’t you think?”

His brother looked defeated and Wei Wuxian was almost crying.

“But we aren’t allowed to have sex in the Cloud Recess for the next three weeks!” he whined.

“Then think about what you’ve done,” said Xichen and Jiang Wanyin started to laugh, not sarcastically, but only with happiness. It made Xichen smile as well and he grabbed his beloved’s hand, pulling him forward because he had much to tell him. He left his brother and brother in law standing by the library, only stopping when Wangji called his name.

“Brother,” he said. “I’m happy you’ve found someone.”

Even if that someone was Jiang Wanyin went unsaid.

“Thank you,” said Xichen and now it was Wanyin who was pulling him along. Xichen let him and he laughed, just from being so damn happy. His mind was already making plans for Yunmeng, thinking they could go swimming and then… He made himself blush.

“Hey,” he said, making Wanyin stop and look at him. They were alone - a perfect moment to introduce his new and improved plan. But right as he opened his mouth …

“Sect leader Lan!”

Sigh.

“Jingyi, no running in Cloud Recess,” he said. “Shizui, you too. Why are you even running?”

“War!” yelled Jingyi. “There will be war!”

Both disciples stopped in front of Xichen and tried to gather some air. Shizui furiously nodded along Jingyi’s words. 

“War?” asked Wanyin, moving closer to Xichen’s side so he was noticed. And noticed he was, the disciples’ mouths falling open.

“You’re alive!” blurted Jingyi. “Congratulations!”

“Jin Ling wants to drain Yunmeng’s lakes,” rushed out Shizui, his eyes begging them to see how serious that was. “Sect leader Jiang told him that if he touches even one and there will be war. Please, stop him!”

“That brat,” gritted out Wanyin. He let go of Xichen’s hand to furiously wave along with his words. “Where is my sword, anyway?”

“They buried it,” answered Xichen sheepishly. Wanyin sighed and shook his head.

“Typically. And Zidian? Where is it?”

“... also buried.”

“What?! Those morons! It's a family heirloom, it belongs to Jin Ling! And now you’ll tell me they also buried my bell!”

Xichen nodded.

“I go away for a month and everything goes to hell!”

Wanyin was seething, his arms crossed and his scowl almost carved into his face.

“Fuck this, let’s go Xichen!”

Xichen nodded, prepared to agree to anything only to calm the other’s wrath. Lan Jingyi and Lan Shizui wisely made themselves scarce. 

“We can fly on Shuoyue,” he proposed, imagining a romantic flight across the sky, but Wanyin only smirked in response. Then his eyes shined silver and Xichen gasped because it couldn’t possibly be … But it was and in the next moment, there was his beloved dragon, standing high above him. He lowered his head and Xichen stared into his eyes - intelligent, human eyes. 

“So beautiful,” smiled Xichen, his hand caressing the purple scales and Jiang Wanyin purred. He climbed on his dragon, his hands grabbing the horns and his body settling comfortably among the mane. 

“Mind the barrier though. Mind the barrier!”

___________________________

Lan Qiren stood in one of the Cloud Recess’ many paths, white pebbles under his feet and his eyes directed at the sky. He gave a long sigh and looked down, firmly grabbing the bridge of his nose to combat the headache. 

The sparkling pieces of the barrier rained down all around him.

Chapter Text

Lan Xichen sat on the pier, his legs just touching the water and slowly making small circles. His reflection stared back at him between the lotus flowers. He breathed out and the saw huge green leaves move, gently rocking in the breeze. His fingers pressed against the moist wood at the edge of the pier when he leaned back and showed his face to the sun, feeling the rays of light touch his skin. He closed his eyes. He was told his smile could combat the blazing stars.

Memories danced behind his closed eyelids, scenes and words so fresh he could have been standing in the middle of it.

The people of the Lotus Pier falling to their knees, crying when seeing their previous sect leader alive and well. The current sect leader reaching out, begging for forgiveness and Wanyin asking about the well-being of the two injured disciples. Zidian, sparkling when its rightful owner moved his hands.

The children asking about Wanyin’s horns and his beloved dragon lowering his head, letting them touch. They braided his hair and weaved tiny flowers inside.

Wanyin slowly approaching a golden figure, alone on the faraway pier. Xichen could not hear the words, but he saw the figure flinch and throw itself at Wanyin. They held each other like they would disappear upon parting. Like they couldn’t stand to be apart any longer. 

He felt tears gather behind his closed eyelids among the memories, but it was okay. These were happy tears.

He felt a kiss on his lips. Light and gentle and everything Xichen needed. His eyes remained closed even as Wanyin kissed his tears away, his hands reaching up to caress the face that shielded him from the sun. 

“I love you,” he whispered when they parted and felt Wanyin smile. He had to say it as much as possible because he had said it too late for the first time and almost lost the chance. He didn’t have to hear it back either. Wanyin was a man, a dragon, of actions and not words. And Xichen felt another, deeper kiss, and it was enough.

“Will you stay by my side?” asked Wanyin and Xichen opened his eyes.

“As long as I live,” promised Xichen, swearing it with every fiber of his being. In exchange he got to see Wanyin smile wide and his heart burned with feelings for the other. “I will stay here in Lotus Pier. I will step down as a sect leader. Wanyin, I’m yours.”

Wangji would be a good sect leader after he began to understand the heavy weight of the responsibility. He might even apologize as promised and then Xichen could possibly be proud.

Wanyin hugged him from behind and rested his head on Xichen’s shoulder. He closed his eyes, but Xichen kept his open and fixated on the other’s face. It was relaxed and peaceful, breathing in and out softly, and it made Xichen fall in love all over again. 

“I was watching the lotuses,” he told him. “I was looking at them and I realized you almost became one. Wanyin, it hurts. I fear closing my eyes only to open them and see you gone.”

Wanyin slowly opened his eyes, Xichen losing himself in the bottomless orbs. And then he pushed them both off the pier and they were falling through the water, firmly wrapped around each other. And Xichen knew - if Wanyin wanted to stay under the surface, they’d stay down there, forever. But then Wanyin kicked and their heads broke the surface of the water.

“Wanyin,” whispered Xichen like it was the only thing he ever wanted to say.

“I can’t stay,” said the other, his lips so close to Xichen they felt their breaths mix. 

“Then take me with you,” pleaded Xichen. He’d follow Wanyin to death in an instant. And yet the dragon only chuckled. 

“I can’t stay in Lotus Pier,” he explained, placing his head against Xichen’s, their hands still wrapped around both of them. “At least not for long.”

His hand rose above the surface and he traced the worry lines on Xichen’s face. 

“I will not return to being a sect leader,” he explained and Xichen gasped. “Lan Qiren suggested I focus on my new powers and I agree. Having a dragon as a leader would give Yunmeng Jiang too much influence. The balance would be broken.”

Xichen’s heart began to beat harder at that. He could see the sheer want in Wanyin’s eyes when he said that, the want for Xichen. And Xichen was his, heart and soul. He closed his eyes, seeing a memory that was yet to come.

The sun was slowly dying, falling below the horizon, and two lonely shapes intertwined on the mountain edge. He couldn’t see their faces, their lips when they kissed, but Wanyin’s horns were longer and more complex and he himself was wearing an elder’s clothes. Their shadows, as long as the clouds above them, became one.

“You’re lying,” he breathed out, feeling the water on his skin and yet basking in the sunset all the same.

“Yes.”

That was Wanyin’s voice in his ear.

“I don’t care about balance. I care about you. I want to understand my powers, yes, but I also want to explore you.”

Xichen’s breathing became very difficult. He opened his eyes and Wanyin was right there, his eyes a molten silver.

“Forever?” he asked, knowing it was too late for him to back away. He had fallen too hard.

“Forever.”

But falling wasn’t that bad when his dragon was there to catch him.

Sect leader Jiang was sitting in a pavilion, slowly writing a letter. He lifted his head and looked at the sky, ink dripping down his brush and destroying the words. 

The disciples moved as one, slashing and parrying, their movements as graceful and elegant as the waters of Yunmeng. Then they stopped, as if on command, and turned their gazes up.

Jin Ling was trashing a plate until it was nothing but dust around his feet, no traces of the name left. He wiped his tears and smiled.

A dragon rose from the lake, his scales dripping with water and his silver mane blinding in the sun. He moved up, his claws moving like he was swimming and his tail slashing through the air. There was a person on his back, caressing the dragon’s body. It was the most important treasure the dragon had.

Wanyin cried out in happiness and disappeared in a flash of lightning.